Verisimilitude II
by decadentia-immortal
Summary: AU 6th year. Forced to flee to a new school after being rescued, Harry's entire life is changing. But, is it for the better? Or worst? Contains: Slash, Evil!Dumbledore, Vamps, Incubus, new magical species, new school, new identity, Independent!Harry
1. échappent

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter or any of its contents therein. However, any new characters, realms, and certain ideas belong to me. Any unauthorized use of any of the aforementioned items is subject to copyright laws and appropriate action will be taken forthwith.

**Additional Warnings:** This story will contain the Malfoys portrayed in a grey manner, and will also contain slash (malexmale) scenarios and relationships, along with detailed violence and gore, strong language, and adult concepts. Any vulgarity towards race, country, gender, religion, sexuality, nationality, etc. are products of characterization and is no way an indication of my (as the author's) own views. There will be deep uses of theology, ideology, and psychology, along with philosophical debates that may discredit certain religions for purely plot development. It will also contain powerful characters that may be portrayed beyond the norm, though in no way geared towards Mary Sue. However, if any of these things disturb or anger you, please redirect yourself to another story. Thank you very much.

**A/n:** Yay~! Deca's back. And with a brand-new, revitalized version of the story you've all been waiting for. I hope you guys like this one better. Enjoy!

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Thinking back on things, he'd realized it had been somewhat ridiculous of him to think he had even the remotest chance of any semblance of normalcy: Him, Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, Hogwarts' Golden Boy, and the wizarding world's very own hero? Some would call it naivety, and others would call it ignorance. Harry himself had decided to call it Karma, and that it was decidedly fucking with him in all the wrong kinds of ways.

It had taken a steady slew of torture aimed his way from one of the very few people in the world he had come to trust to bring Harry to such a conclusion. He did not know if the feeling bubbling inside of him was anger, sadness, or simply indigestion from eating drugged scraps off the floor of his cell every day. After the fourth day and some intense skelegrow sessions that came about from a few bone-breaking hexes from his most 'beloved' Headmaster, Harry had come to think it was a combination of all three.

Day after day after day –which soon began to merge into an endless cycle of pain and delusion –Harry suffered at the hands of Albus Dumbledore. The only reprieve he received was when he was either unconscious or in the dead of the night when everyone was rested. Surprisingly, Harry had obtained some warped form of Occulancy that frustrated Dumbledore to no end, as the man found he couldn't suppress Harry's memories nor erase them.

"Years of work…" he'd hissed to Harry one night, after enervating the boy during a particularly painful session, "Years of work and planning and praying that you wouldn't be one of them, gone to waste. If I had known then I would've orchestrated for the Prophesy to have befallen the Longbottom boy. As it is, I'm stuck with you. And until I have broken you, you will not leave this cell."

And Harry had truly believed that he would have been stuck in that cell if it hadn't been for a most improbable savior.

When _Severus_ _Snape_ melted through his cell and removed his magically enhanced shackles with a smear of acrid smelling acidic potion, Harry had been inclined to think this was either another hallucination brought on by the indigestion or an insipid joke. He'd point-blank refused to take a step out of his cell, even at the persistence of the looming black-clad professor. This resulted in a small scuffle that he'd painfully lost, and Harry soon found himself slung over the Potion Master's shoulder with a startling amount of ease.

And then they were fleeing.

Harry, still disbelieving, only realized the escape was not staged when Filch saw the unlikely duo and raised the alarm, flooding Hogwarts with a loud, piercing siren. There'd been a pregnant pause before two distinctly different reactions were heard:

"Shit."

And, "I'm at Hogwarts?"

Snape hadn't the time to sneer in disgust at Harry's evident lack of lucidity before curses were raining upon them, thankfully coming from the direction of the stairs. This left Snape enough time to flee to the Entrance Hall, and then out into the Courtyard. Blocking a nasty looking violet curse, he sent back a transfigured flurry of glass petals towards his rapidly increasing opponents. Snape'd attempted to enlist Potter's help in removing the portkey trapped beneath the boy's legs, it was then he'd realized just how drugged Harry was.

"Potter? Potter! Now is not the time for you to be-" the potions master was cut off abruptly by a sheet of fire aimed at him by McGonagall. He was forced to stop his rant in order to engage her in a furious battle of transfigured weapons.

Harry, on the other hand, didn't even seem to notice as the battle raged around him, so preoccupied he was with staring in open-mouthed awe at the castle he'd schooled at for five years.

"Hogwarts, professor… We're at Hogwarts…" he mumbled, voice strained and slurred by the combination of his diaphragm compressed against Snape's shoulder and the drugs in his system.

It had taken all of Snape's willpower not to curse the boy off his shoulder and leave him to the twisted whims of the Headmaster. Instead, he heaved Harry not so gently unto the floor and pulled three items out of his pocket. One, an inky black pouch embossed with a bright gold emblem, another a raggedy looking grey owl feather, and the third, a spare wand with which he expertly spun and began firing deadly looking curses into the fray with. The first two, Snape shoved hurriedly into Harry's hands, startling the boy enough to pull him out of his dazed gawking at the castle.

"The feather is a portkey, Potter. And, the password is _roulette_. When I say so, activate it, am I understood?"

Snape might as well have been conversing with a brick wall, for all the recognition his words received from his former student. Instead, Harry replied with another useless remark about Hogwarts, right as raven-haired man had to dive and roll to avoid a nasty severing hex, courtesy of one Filius Flitwick.

Even with his perceptible heightened reflexes and strength, Snape quickly begun to tire and as such had reverted to average dark hexes and mundane tortures such as the _Cruciatus_. Pivoting on one leg, he placed the other tightly against Harry's side.

"Now, Potter. Activate the portkey now!"

Harry had turned dark green eyes upon him, eyes that felt like they cut through him, and _giggled_. Of all things: _Giggled!_

"I didn't know we had dungeons like that at Hogwarts," the boy responded, swaying lightly in his place on the floor. Brow shooting high, eyes widening ever so slightly, Snape didn't know how to respond for all of one second.  
"Potter, I know a useful thought has never crossed your vapid skull, but for once in your inadequate degenerate life could you try to adhere to common sense and say the damn password?" he snarled, ducking a sudden fireball.

By this point a sense of urgency should have come about to the boy-who-lived, however Snape felt he shouldn't have expect such a level of intelligence from a Potter, much less a drug-induced one. Before he could begin to set about instilling such a sense, a powerful wave of cloying energy suddenly flooded the Courtyard, and Snape knew without looking that Albus had arrived.

"Potter? _Harry_… _Now_!" he gritted out, doubling his efforts at keeping the others at bay, knowing he did not have much time. The bespectacled boy markedly reacted at the use of his given name from Snape, eyes widening with the first signs of acknowledgment of the situation.

As he was about to take advantage of this unexpected breakthrough, the potions master noticed a flicker of light out of the corner of his eye, heaving straight towards Harry, and without thinking, leaped to take the brunt of the curse. At the same moment, the smaller male finally responded, tone questioning through his stupidity, "What's _roulette _anyways?"

Just as the curse was about to hit Snape, there was a violent tug behind Harry's navel and a bright, firework burst of gold light blinded him before he slipped gratefully into a comfortable darkness; the pain from his torture blissfully slipping away. The last thing he heard was Snape's cry of agony until that too faded into the blackness around him.

-x-

When cognizance finally returned to Harry, he promptly wished it hadn't. His head throbbed with the agony that usually came about when a painkiller wore off –only with twice the intensity. The broken glass sounds he heard when he shifted told him that his glasses had been destroyed, and the soft grass beneath him alerted him to the fact that he was laying outside. Everything else to be learned required him to open his eyes.

When he did, the green eyes promptly vanished behind his eyelids, accompanied by a hiss of displeasure and a soft groan. Slowly, Harry managed to get himself accustomed to the lighting, and even more haltingly moved into an upright position. What he saw shocked him into complete stillness and had his mouth dropping open in wonder –even more so than the fact that he could see clearly without his glasses.

In front of him was a house that looked like it was straight out of a fairytale, thatched roofing and all. The front of the house was a pale cream and burgundy, elegantly done up to look like a bigger version of a cottage. The windows all had wine-red shutters framed with the carvings of unicorns, centaurs, faun, and fae –mostly of the nymph and dryad variety- which were moving in never-ending intricate paths around the wooden structure. An elaborately carved chimney sat on one side of the roof; a phoenix wrapped around the funnel, wings almost immaculately chiseled into detailed flames. The wings themselves would occasionally detach and flap, presumably to blow away the smoke if a fire was going.

All of this Harry drank in, eyes wider than usual, wondering just where he was and how he'd gotten there. Abruptly, memories piled to the forefront of his mind and he glanced around hurriedly, searching for the familiar black-clad form of his Potions professor. He found the man not three feet away from him, coloring normal but unconscious non-the-less, and remembered the light and the screaming he'd heard before.

Checking over the elder male, Harry could find no visible injuries and decided to get them both inside. Considering the portkey had been given to him by Snape, he could only assume that the man had taken them somewhere safe and that he wasn't about to be ambushed upon entering the happy-looking abode. Despite that reasoning, Harry still shifted cautiously towards the house. His movements being labored due to the heaviness of the body he'd managed to halfway sling over his shoulders.

On the way through the petite but populated front garden, Harry marked a most curiously looking plant, nestled snugly between a plantation of strawberries and a small vine of grapes. It looked like a small patch of mint upon which grew blue-lavender fruits with the likeness of miniature raspberries. He soon found that if he wandered too close to the odd-looking plant, the stems grew vines with fangs that hissed briefly and darted in to bite him with a snake-like agility. It took all his seeker-honed reflexes to avoid any possible grotesque injury.

Harry hurried into the house at that point, eager to remove the dead weight from his undernourished shoulders and find out what the devil was going on once and for all. Even though Snape had saved him, he still suspected an ulterior motive behind the other man's actions. Call it paranoia, but the last… however long he'd spent under torture had made him distrusting of those whom seemed to be on his side.

Inside was much more modern in regards to the decoration. In fact, to Harry's great surprise, the interior actually appeared to be more muggle than anything. It was like something straight out of those Home Décor Magazines his Aunt frequently purchased so she'd look normal and homely to anybody who bothered to visit. The hallways were adorned with portraits of beautiful men and woman who were most definitely not human. They giggled at the raven-haired boy as he stumbled past them, the cherry oak floors and deep cream walls providing a cozy atmosphere as he made his way across the foyer and into the living room.

Once in the living room, Harry spotted a couch almost large enough to be considered a small bed and gratefully dumped the unconscious wizard upon it. Slumping next to the soft upholstery, he took the time to survey his surroundings as he regained his breath.

Harry's eyes alighted first upon the brown suede couch Snape was laying on, situation along the back wall of the room. Two other settees faced inwards and opposite each other on either side of the first in the same soft suede, and two matching buttermilk armchairs filled in the corners where all three couches met. It was in one of these that he crawled to and curled up in, continuing with his weary examination as he rested his head on a green and gold silk cushion.

Across from him was what appeared to be a dining room that must have doubled as a conference room thanks to the eight chintz chairs around a mahogany polished table. The room had spade-shaped windows with soft lacy green curtains that fluttered lightly in a breeze Harry was sure was magically created.

Beyond the dining room, Harry could see the kitchen. Immediately, he rolled to his feet and entered, delighting in what he saw. The room was bright and airy, painted a pastel yellow and cream. Everything looked shiny and brand new and the appliances were a mixture of muggle and magical ones. A quick glance in the fridge and cupboards showed that they were stock full enough for a full year long siege; probably longer, he thought after looking in the storeroom. He'd only known there was one because of the cream colored door that said 'Pantry' in a sweet, cursive script across it. Harry didn't look too closely, but he had a feeling that the writing on the door wasn't really in English. He had no idea how he knew that, but his instinct did and if there was one thing Harry knew he could rely on, it was his instinct.

Deciding to leave the mysterious writing alone, the inquisitive teen soon discovered the house was a lot bigger on the inside than it was on the outside. The next room he walked into was a full blown library. And it was _enormous_. At least four stories high –even though the house only appeared two stories from the outside- each floor was spacious yet packed with books, every bookshelf filled to the brim. Harry could only gape at the sheer size of it all, unable to fully comprehend what he was seeing. Walking in, he navigated his way around, looking at section titles to see what kind of books he would find. A moment later, a tray with a thin book resembling a menu floated over to him, hovering in front of his torso.

A short glance later told him the object was in reality some sort of map to the library, it showed him what all the categories of books there were and where they were stored. And, in addition to that, there was a space where he could write –or send a telepathic message, once he gained the skill– what subjects he was looking for, and the booklet would show him all the books that contained knowledge on what he'd written; it was a very advanced system, one he wished Hogwarts had adopted whilst he was still there.

Immediately, at the thought of the ancient castle, Harry froze and sank slowly into a chair he was pretty convinced hadn't been there before. But he wasn't concerned with that.

He had been tortured, at Hogwarts: His home.

Professor Dumbledore had tortured him in its dungeons, and the other professors had helped the man –stopped him from trying to escape.

Tears stung at the corners of his eyes and rolled hotly down his cheeks, falling onto the floating map until it flew away, possibly to avoid more damage. Harry barely even noticed. The unruly haired teen brought his knees up to his chest and hugged them tightly, willing himself to stop crying. He'd lost his home once again, due to his abnormality; he was no fool. Harry had heard Dumbledore's rants about his tainted blood, about how useless he was, and how he only brought trouble to those who tried to care for him. Hell, Dumbledore even chose to reveal that his two best friends had been mooching from him for years, and that Ron hardly cared for his "heroics" and continuous bids for fame. Apparently, Hermione was just indifferent.

Everything he had thought was safe and definite was gone, and now Harry was left alone in some strange fairytale cottage with his ex-Potions professor of whom he thought hated him, and vice versa. Not only that, but Harry wasn't even sure the man was going to wake up, and then when he did, the green-eyed teen didn't know what would happen to him. Nothing was certain anymore. Had Voldemort done this? Put everyone under some darker version of _Imperio_?

Harry didn't even care anymore. Just thinking about everything hurt, and made him angry –angrier than he'd ever been, even at the supposed Dark Lord. If whatever had happened was true, Harry wanted nothing more to do with his so-called friends and guardians. They could vanquish Voldemort by themselves. If they would treat him so, why should he sacrifice himself and more people for such corruptness? Sirius had already died for the cause, as had his parents. He wondered if any of them had known of Dumbledore's cruelty.

Drying his eyes surreptitiously on the corner of his dirty, over-sized jumper, he summoned the map-book back and spent the next few hours ignoring the painful thoughts in his mind. Instead, he lost himself in books on topics that intrigued him: Fantasy novels, books on different species, animagus transformation, things he had always had an interest in. There were many other books he had wanted to look at, but knew he wouldn't comprehend, such as Mind Magics, Ancient Runes, and other such complex subjects.

The teen was so caught up in his reading that he didn't even notice Snape's presence until the older man sat down across from him, eyebrow raised in an amused manner Harry had never had the privilege to see before.

"Found something you can comprehend, Mr. Potter?" Snape said, tone one of wry amusement

Harry jumped with a start, lurching up and backwards from the chair until he fell over the side of it, whacking his elbows harshly against the carpeted floor.

"Fuck!" he exclaimed, as soon as regained his bearings, glaring up at Snape who was smirking openly. Harry was incensed when he heard the man chuckle, his expression deepening to a scowl, emerald green eyes glowing brightly with agitation.

"Language, Mr. Potter," Snape said smoothly, completely unfazed by the teen's angry gaze. Harry merely grumbled, picking himself up and eying his professor with distaste. He was surprised to note that his teacher didn't seem as sour as was usually when in class, which was perhaps due to the lack of multiple sniveling brats. As it was, the change was enough to make Harry apologize, though it was curt and hardly dripping with sincerity.

The silence that followed was so oppressive, Harry found himself squirming in his chair out of sheer boredom until a sharp glance from Snape stilled him. A sigh escaped him, and the teen was surprised to hear it echoed by the older man.

"So… Can I assume you know what has been going on, Professor?" Harry asked slowly, awkwardly fidgeting with the hem of Dudley's old sweater.

Snape merely inclined his head, leaving Harry to huff in frustration, already feeling the familiar burn of irritation building for the other man. Before he could begin to mouth-off, however, Snape cut him off with a dismissive flick of his wrists.

"_Severus_," he intoned blandly, face pinched as if the very effort to say the word was costing him dearly. "I'm hardly your professor anymore after that debacle, so Severus will suffice."

Harry didn't think his jaw could possibly get any lower; it hung unhinged in sheer surprise. Severus Snape had just invited him to call him by his first name. The gangly boy blinked, unsure of what to say, and then merely nodded, head tilted in confusion.

"Alright, then… you can call me Harry, as Mr. Potter sounds far too formal," he returned hesitantly, not quite sure how he felt about their sudden informality. But then again, far worse things had happened to him, so he simply took it in stride. Well, until Snape spoke again.

"Actually, I won't be calling you either of those names for much longer, Harry, as we're about to change not only your name, but your very identity," Snape answered, face blank of any emotion. "It is of the utmost importance if you ever want to finish your education and live free from the worry of Albus capturing you again."

There was a most… pregnant pause.

"_**What**_?"

Snape was glaring at him again, but Harry couldn't bring himself to care. All he could think about was that even his identity was being taken from him, on top of everything else. And even though he could see where the potions master was coming from –even agreed– it was still the straw that broke the camel's back.

The bookshelves in the room began to shake and wobble and all the lights flickered ominously. There was a surge of sudden energy within him. Vaguely, Harry could hear a voice calling out to him, trying to calm him, but he ignored it in favor of just letting go: And he had never felt better.

Suddenly, yet ever so slowly, a white glow filled his thoughts to obliterate everything but its comfortable embrace.

'_Stay…_' it seemed to say. '_Don't leave… stay with me…_'

Before he could even agree, a harsh stinging in the side of his cheek brought Harry roughly back to reality. Startled green eyes met angry onyx ones that seemed to glow an unnatural hue of red in the lamplight. A glance around him showed books and paper fluttering madly about the room, whipped around by a wind that appeared to originate from him. With a wince Harry forced himself to calm down, watching with silent wonder as the room quickly and efficiently cleaned itself up, courtesy of a spell from one irate Severus Snape.

"If you're _quite_ finished throwing your little… temper tantrum," the man sneered, eying him with distaste, "then we can return to the topic at hand: I.e. what you want your new name to be."

Unfortunately for Snape, the teen merely continued to gape at with such an expression of absent stupidity that he again questioned his decision to save the boy.

"It's not that difficult a question, _Harry_. I'm sure even your simple mind can come up with something plausible for your name, though your lineage claims otherwise."

That was enough to snap Harry out of his stupor and right again into a foul mood. He had, of course, caught on to the older man's slight against the Marauders.

"Well, _Severus_," he replied tetchily, causing the man's eye to twitch in displeasure, "I have always admired the Greek goddess Demeter. So, Demetrius…" he thought on it a second more, "No… Dmitri? Yes, Dmitri."

Snape hid his surprise behind the boy's reasoning and merely sniffed, snapping his fingers sharply. A black, dragon-hide book appeared in his hands along with a foot long, delicate looking golden quill.

"And your last name," he droned sardonically.

Harry paused for a moment before a sudden smile lit his features, "Li, in honor of my mother, Lily."

He whispered the words softly. Severus said nothing, simply writing down the name.

"There, you are now registered in the Second Realm as Dmitri Li. I've also enrolled you in Inverness Academy. It's a school for half-bloods like you, from different realms," the Potions master stated, watching as the book and quill vanished in a puff of silvery smoke.

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End Notes: Well, there we are. Chapter one of an improved Verisimilitude! I hope you all enjoyed, and please, if you have the time, review and tell me what you thought of this version compared to the other.

Thank you, as always,

**Deca**

11/29/10


	2. découverte

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Harry Potter or any of its contents therein. However, any new characters, realms, and certain ideas belong to me. Any unauthorized use of any of the aforementioned items is subject to copyright laws and appropriate action will be taken forthwith.

**A/N:** Revamping is hard work~ But I'm excited for this. My beta, Superbia, is a slave driver, so let's see how long it will take to hammer out all the gaping plot holes of the original! Onwards to chapter two, Supie! –cackles maniacally-

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**Chapter 2: Découverte**

Harry –now Dmitri – merely gazed blankly at the sour-faced professor, hardly daring to believe the audacity in that tone as it proclaimed the statement. As if it was the most natural thing to say in the world!  
"An explanation would be lovely," he countered flatly, eyes barely open, affixed languidly at the elder male.

Severus sniffed haughtily. "An explanation of what, exactly, are you referring to, Mr. _Li_? You should practice specificity more often."

So he was going to play ignorant, was he? Dmitri's infuriated gaze deepened as he reclined further in his seat.  
"Alright, specific you say. Then, what is this Second Realm you speak of, and how many different realms are there? Where is Inverness Academy, and why have I been enrolled there? What do you mean by half-bloods like me? And why are you so miserable all the time?"

The emerald-eyed teen finished his list with a beatific smile that only grew as the Potion's Master shot him a decidedly dirty look. "I shall answer your questions forthwith, though it would be wise not to be so impertinent in the future."  
All Severus got for his troubles was an arrogant grin that set his brow twitching. '_Brat_.'

"To begin, the Second Realm is not entirely its own dimension. If we say Earth is one realm, then the Second Realm is a sub-space within it; an extension of the planet that is hidden and sectioned off from the rest of the world. This is a stretch called Dnoxces Mlaerm. As to how many actual sanctioned realms there are… Currently, I believe there are four, though there are tales of a forbidden fifth.

"Each realm is home to different species and races of all sentient and magical beings. There is Earth and Dnoxces, the Ariaus, the Elbas Meuqorab, and the Lan'raellis. The so-called fifth one, in which I am stating for educational purposes, is called the Lan'yemael. It is supposedly home to the foulest of creatures and can only be reached by the blackest of Magics," he paused with a sniff of his hooked nose, braking his vocal train to observe his former student's reaction.

"What resides in each realm then? Are they mono-species or diverse, like earth?" Dmitri posed after a breath, leveling his gaze to the snide countenance. Severus was struck by the aberrant astuteness of those eyes.

Snape shook his head minimally, breaking the sudden stare. He was marginally amused, despite himself, at the torrent of questions coming from the adolescent. If only the boy had been half so productive in school. "Each domain is unique in that respect. The Light Realm, Ariaus, is singularly the home of the Seraphim and high Pegasi. Whereas the Shadow Realm, Elbas, is its exact opposite; it is home to Nauctrals, Nederites and the original high demons: The Undaminh."

The Potions Master tapped his fingers on the table between them, as if contemplating further on his words. "Lastly, the Elemental plane of Lan'raellis is home to the Sidhe and Elves. Though, it is unclear if they're the only ones."

Dmitri nodded slowly, processing what he'd been told with a mildly overwhelmed expression, though grateful as the new-found knowledge overwhelmed the panic he could sense lurking beneath. There was so much more to the world he had thought he'd known. Yet somehow, it seemed he was still at the center of trouble. "So… What about the second realm?"

Snape scowled lightly and conjured up a cup of tea, absently stirring the liquid before taking a sip. "I was getting to that. Dnoxces Mlaerm was essentially created to house non-mortals and the hybrid offspring of inter-realm couples. It is nearly impossible for a creature of one domain to enter another and those that can, cannot readily reside there, if at all. When a child is born from parents of different realms, the child will often show attributes descending from both planes. Thus, it is difficult for the child to live in one or the other, especially when puberty or prepubescent abilities arise.

"Because of that, a neutral environment was needed to house the brats so they could learn to adapt. The goal was that they would glean enough experience to control themselves in order to live in whatever land they preferred. Earth was the chosen plane for a long time. However, when the mortals began to hunt down the half-breeds, an alternative was made. The 'Second Realm' was created so that they would grow protected and safe from humans."

Dmitri took note of both the use of 'the mortals' and 'humans' before speaking again. Which, once he thought about it, made perfect sense. Growing up with the Dursley's had certainly shown exactly how deep humanity had a scorn for anything outside of its perceived norm. Yet, he pondered, did that mean there was no need to distinguish between muggles and the magicked populous? "And I suppose the different species found the half-bloods distasteful as well?"

Snape nodded once, his lips quirking from the lightest indication of disgust. "Of course; though, for diplomacy's sake, the blame is strictly placed on mortals."

The younger male scoffed, curling his knees up to his chest subconsciously. He hardly seemed aware that he was shaking, though the Potions Master noted it. "Well, that answers the basics about the realms," Li trailed, "but what does all of that have to do with me?"  
After all, he could hardly imagine that Severus had told him all of that out of his love of inter-dimensional geography. Hermione would have been so fascinated by all of this.

Dmitri ruthlessly shredded the thought and flinched visibly, determinedly refocusing on the conversation at hand. That thought was much too close to recent events. He would break down later, when all questions were answered and once he had time to reflect: Though, certainly not in front of Snape.

"Well, as I mentioned before, Earth is a neutral zone on which all species can reside. With humans as the perfect prey for most creatures due to their lack of natural defensive ability, many beings have set up homes here. The Potter's were one such set of beings, mainly Seraphim—"

"What are Seraphim?" Dmitri interjected promptly, causing Severus to scowl heavily at him for the interruption.  
"Don't you know anything?"

Vibrant green eyes shot him a decided frosty glare, and the verbal response was no less glacial. "My education from my time at Hogwarts appears to be somewhat severely lacking, so you'll just have to excuse my ignorance."

Hooded eyes held the irate look for a few moments before the older man nodded shortly, trying to lock away his disdain for the moment. The boy hadn't been entirely too insufferable and he could at least try and extend the same courtesy. Dmitri had every right to be curious, after all.

"Seraphim are, for lack of better terminology, angels. Though not in the human biblical sense at all," the brooding man supplied, refilling the tea cup he had drained during their exchange. "However, they do share some similarities. Seraphim have wings and their skin gives off an unearthly glow; a byproduct of their food source. You'll undoubtedly learn more about them at Inverness, so I won't go into the subject anymore."

He glowered before Dmitri could interrupt again, inwardly heaving a sigh. "But as I said, the Potter's are such a family. All of them Seraphim who decided to live on Earth amongst humans. Your _father _fell in love with your mother and had you, a half-blooded Seraph. But…"  
Here, Snape trailed off, a pensive look on his face. The curled up boy tensed in shock, his instincts telling him he would not enjoy this train of thought.

When it became clear the elder wasn't going to continue, the gangly youth shifted awkwardly in his chair. His thoughts were threatening to start spiraling away again; he had lost a lot more than just his friendships in that dungeon. He was grateful, despite himself, when Severus finally broke the silence.

"I'm curious to know how you ended up in that predicament with Albus, Dmitri," he intoned lightly, the question unsubtle in his statement. The aforementioned teen worried at his lip and absently traced his fingers along the few faint scars that ran across his arms and palms from the cutting curse.

"Well, I don't know the reasons why, but I can certainly explain the events leading up to my capture," came the soft reply as he began to tell his tale. "I was gardening for Aunt Petunia, as per usual. I hadn't eaten yet, since Dudley had caused me to get in trouble with Uncle Vernon..."

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"_Boy! Get in here!" Vernon boomed out into the yard, face a sickly puce color in his rage. Harry, meek in his hunger and fatigue wearily traipsed inside, preparing himself for another bout of punishment._

_His uncle who was nearly speechless in his anger merely pointed at his previous bedroom under the stairs, hissing, "Explain. Now!"_

_It was an impossible request. _

_The door was wobbling and shaking by itself. A purple smoke fragrant with the scent of heady cedar wood permeated the air, causing a misty haze to settle around the first floor. Strange laughing noises echoed eerily about, and as he stepped closer, Harry felt a strong compulsion to open the door._

"_I… I don't know what this is, Uncle Vernon," he whispered, sweating as he fought against the urge to get closer. "Perhaps my potion ingredients reacted because they've been locked in there all summer."_

_Vernon responded by backhanding him across the face, splitting his lower lip._

"_Now look here, boy! I don't care what happened, but I will not tolerate your freakishness tainting my house," he growled, grabbing him by the hair. Harry screamed as he was slammed against the door. The urge was becoming more than he could bear, and the wood of the door felt like it was burning his skin._

_The waif-like boy didn't hear Vernon's yell of alarm as he opened his eyes, revealing them to have filled in their killing curse green completely, eradicating both the cornea and the pupil. He didn't even notice when his hair was released. All he could focus on was the door, and how much he wanted to open it._

_The only thing that had stopped him was the sound of Dumbledore's voice when he'd gotten hit with a stunner._

_When his senses returned, he was in a strange cell. The walls were lined with a queer, sickly yellow stone that glowed, and his body ached as if he'd just undergone the most rigorous training of his life. His head felt stuffy and he had a headache the size of a Hungarian Horntail._

_Not really knowing what was going on, he simply waited for his captor to show, trying desperately to recall the last moments before his blackout. To his surprise, when someone showed up, it was Professor Dumbledore, flanked by a serious looking McGonagall and another Mediterranean looking man he'd never seen before in his life._

_Dumbledore smiled down at him kindly manner, eyes twinkling as merrily as ever._  
"_How are you feeling, my boy?"_

_Unsure of how to respond, Harry merely shrugged as he tried to figure out why his every sense, down to the bone, was telling him to get as far away from the other man as possible. Unfortunately, nothing was immediately forthcoming. _

_Dumbledore moved and stood in front of the door to his cell, lightly leaning against the metallic bars._

"_Tell me, Harry… what do you remember from earlier today?" he asked kindly, voice soothing, yet only managing to stir Harry's instincts into a further frenzy._

"_To be honest, Professor, not much," he answered, running his hands haphazardly through his hair. He noted quietly how all three of the adults in the room seemed suddenly to shift and relax at that. With narrowed eyes, he watched as McGonagall handed Dumbledore what was obviously the key to his cell, proving that they were indeed the ones who had imprisoned him._

_Suddenly, as Dumbledore moved to put the key into the lock, Harry felt a bout of nausea wash over him. The unsettled feelings continued to grow, pulsing beneath his skin and prickling around his eyes until, with a burst of agony so intense he was sure he tore his throat screaming, all the memories from earlier that day burst free and flooded his mind._

_Dimly, he could hear alarmed shouting and a spell: Legilimens. A foreign presence invaded his mind, trying to suppress the flood of his thoughts. But they were too strong and agile, too fluid, and they slipped between the cracks of the shoddy golden barrier. When the pain finally eased, he was left staring up into cold blue eyes._

_Summoned shackles cut into the skin around his neck, ankles, and wrists, pulling him taut against the wall. Harry, struggling against his new bonds, peered terrified up at the man whom he had sincerely looked up to, wincing at the sheer force of hatred and disgust he could see in those familiar eyes._

"_Professor, why?" he croaked, spitting out a blob of red tinged spit, confirming that he had indeed torn his throat. Dumbledore's eyes, if possible, got even colder._

"_Because of what you are, Harry," he said frostily, his gaze sharpening. "I had hoped that the Potter gene had been overridden by the Evans gene in you, since she was muggleborn. But, once again, you've managed to defy my expectations."_

_Dumbledore stepped back from Harry, leaving the cell again. "I'm afraid it would have been better for you to have forgotten. Yet like a true anomaly, this option has been proven impossible. So I'll have to break you to my will."_

_For a moment, the man seemed to resemble his old mentor. Then a steeled look crossed his features and his torture began. _

_He screamed, long, loud, and way past the point any human should scream. Especially once his open wounds hit the strange rock, sizzling and proving to be acidic. His very bones shook with an icy cold, as his very essence and life source seemed to be sucked from his bare skin._

_After each bout, Dumbledore would wait a few hours for him to writhe in aftermath of agony before healing the wounds crudely, his countenance the very picture of a man practiced with this form of torture. The cobalt-eyed teen would then get a temporary reprieve before the process started again, until he felt as if he was going mad. No, knew he was descending into insanity._

_By the end of each day, he was grateful when Dumbledore hit him with a stunner, welcoming the darkness like a long lost friend._

_After what had seemed like an eternity of pain, his rescue had come in the form of one Severus Snape melting his bonds and freeing him, dragging him and cursing his sorry ass for the state he'd gotten himself in._

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"Hm..."

If Dmitri hadn't suddenly been so exhausted by the end of his tale, he was sure he would've reacted with more than a quaffed brow at Snape's less than eloquent response. As it were, he merely ended up yawning into his hand as the day's events finally took their toll on him. Despite the fact that his body was somehow healed from his torture, his psyche didn't have that luxury. He'd have to remember to ask the elder about his miraculous recovery sometime soon. For now, he was willing to overlook that particular detail.

"Well?" he intoned waspishly, fatigue causing him to grouch.

Severus snorted very lightly. "I have many theories about it, Mr. Li. But I'd have to do a bit of reading first before I can give you the specifics."  
Here, he looked his charge over. "Besides, I don't think your infinitesimal mind can handle any more shocks for the night. Even I am feeling a tad sluggish. I suggest you rest up before your next inquisition."

The malnourished adolescent glared daggers at him for the slight to his intellect before nodding in acquiescence. Even though he wanted to delay his impending breakdown further, weariness was fuzzing his thought process, making it increasingly difficult to stay in control. Snape merely smirked in response.

"Come, I will show you to your room," he continued smoothly, standing with a disturbingly fluid grace.

Dmitri stood shakily, staring absently at the retreating back of his form Potions Professor as he noted the changes in the man he hadn't noticed before. Gone was the familiar greasy hair; it was replaced by lustrous inky black locks that fell with a slight curve about his face. And the usual sallow pale skin was paler still, like porcelain, and just as unblemished. Despite the darkness of the corridor they were in, he could see the elegance practically oozing from every step the elder man took - a far cry from his usual terrifying, bat-like swooping. A thought occurred to the waif-like teen.

"Sir?" he intoned lightly, forgetting in his new-found discovery to use Severus' name.  
The subject of his puzzling merely turned to glance at him as he lead them up a flight of stairs to his room.  
"I was wondering... are you perhaps a half-breed too?"

He was surprised when they stopped walking until Dmitri realized they were outside of his new room. Glancing at the closed doorway, he began practically swimming in his thoughts. It was then in the quiet of the hallway, Dmitri grasped that Snape wasn't going to answer his question.

Turning to press the issue, he gasped. Li's eyes met carmine orbs so dark their kohl hued rims could barely be distinguished from the irises. The taller man smirked down at him while opening the door. His limbs gestured inside to a bed barely illuminated by the little light the hallway provided.

"Sleep now, Mr. Li. Your questions will be answered tomorrow," Snape drawled before exiting the doorway, leaving behind a thoroughly flabbergasted teen.

Dmitri shook his head as he closed the door behind him, completely enveloping himself in the darkness of the room. He proceeded to strip down to his boxers; strewing what was left of his clothing in a disjointed line behind him as he staggered to the bed. When his shins hit a frame and his hands hit the smoothness of blankets, he crawled to the center of its expanse. He hadn't turned on any lights, and if there were windows they must have been shuttered, so the contents of the room stayed hidden. Sighing, Dmitri sank into the pillows and let the silence press him. And press him.

The break-down started slowly, with small tremors that turned into shakes, which then wracked Dmitri's slender frame. Then the sobs came. Piercing sobs that tore violently from his throat, leaving him gasping for air after every cry. His body felt feverish as he tossed and turned. He found himself trapped in the memories of his torture and betrayal. The shock of the day hit him nearly as hard; battering him about like a plaything whilst he was on his emotional roller-coaster. The former Potter wailed for the loss of his past and of the parents that would've told him everything; lamented for all the things that had been taken from him, and then raged for all those who played him for a fool.

Suddenly, Dmitri's self-pitying turned into wrath, into pure unadulterated rage that filled him till he couldn't breathe. If there was but a mirror before him he would have seen his eyes like the greenest alexandrite, and his skin faintly glowing with its own luminescence. But there wasn't, and he couldn't see past his grief and anger. A deep, guttural, and inhuman growl permeated the air as he clawed at his bed sheets.  
"No more," he whispered, voice raspy from misuse. "No more."

And he meant it. No more would he accept lies and betrayal; no more would he be a puppet. The Boy-Who-Lived, the Savior of the Light, Gryffindor Golden boy was no more. His anger would fuel him, push him to new limits. The half-Seraphim suddenly laughed; it was a sound utterly devoid of humor. He would have his revenge: On Voldemort, on his so-called 'best friends', the fools who used him as a poster boy, and most definitely on Dumbledore.

Dmitri settled suddenly back into the sheets, exhausted from the outburst. It wasn't the first, and it wouldn't be the last, but it was the most important. Even as he fell into a deep slumber, a cynical smile still lingered on his lips.

Completely betrayed and far away from everything he'd once believed in - Harry Potter died that night.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

When he next woke, it was to the usual pounding headache one experienced after falling asleep amidst an emotional breakdown. Light streamed in through circular windows and a set of glass doors that lead out to a balcony.

Yawning as he sat up, Dmitri took his first glimpse at the room and smiled.

The floors were a soft coffee-brown Australian beech -of an almost consistent hue, with a large cream rug in the center. Atop said expansive rug was the four-poster Dmitri had slept in the previous night. The queen-sized oak bed was framed in cream chiffon curtains over-set with velveteen emerald hangings. These were tied to their masts with beige ribbons to let the light onto the bed. This motif was repeated in the drapery askance the windows and french doors.

On either side of Dmitri was a bedside table. Both were made of the same oak as the bed. Upon further inspection Li noted their twisted stands resembled the trunks of trees wrapped in carved vines that actually moved every now and then.

"You know, at this point in my life, I should be used to the furniture moving on its own..."  
Trailing his gaze along the pale mocha walls, framed in oak wainscoting, he spotted the sole bookshelf. With hardly any books on it, whether an illusion or its construction, it seemed to grow right out of the wall.

"I'm beginning to detect a theme here."

Finally slipping off the bed, he made his way past a whitewashed, moss-colored dresser. Its matching vanity was just a step further along the wall. Its mirror was large and vaguely smoky, though it cleared when he walked past. Before he could look at the anomaly too closely, however, Dmitri's attention was caught abruptly by the en-suite bathroom reflected in its surface.

Turning swiftly, he marched to its entrance. Pushing the door ajar further to enter, Dmitri's brow rose considerably up a notch. The floors were a glossy black marble, streaked with veins of jade. Roman columns and intricately carved counter tops had polished silver fixings; again, all in the Gothic style of the floors. The toilet was the same shade of obsidian, though solidly so, which sat next to a small flight of steps leading into the bathtub that was at least three feet deep. Though the carvings were minimal, the steps had a set of fairies dancing in each corner. The walls were a white tile that gave off a silver sheen under the soft light, and a few silver starflowers framed the large mirror that overlooked the entire place.

"Clearly, there is a conflict between designers," Dmitri said with a bemused smile as he leaned against the door frame between both rooms.

All in all, though, he felt comfortable. Despite the oddity of the decor, the natural lighting and construction of the room left him feeling out in the open, yet protected and safe. It was a place he could definitely see himself growing to adore, and hoped he wouldn't have to leave anytime soon. Though, if what Severus had implied the night before was true, then he'd be going to school shortly, as it was already way into August, if not the end.

Come to think of it, how did Severus expect him to go to school? His wand had been taken from him by Dumbledore, so he had no means of practicing magic.

A spike of anger welled in him once more at the sheer injustice he had suffered at the hands of the manipulative bastard. The more he thought on it, the more certain events began to make more sense in his life. The Dursley's and why he had to go live with them; it was a ploy to keep him ignorant and dependent on the Headmaster. The Weasley's at the train station; for no self-respecting wizarding family would go about yelling about muggles and other such oddities in the middle of non-magic London, conveniently around when he needed them. The useless teachers at Hogwarts and his lack of personal training; keeping him under thumb and easily controlled by authority.

Really, the old coot certainly kept his playing cards close. There was Sirius, who had been innocent all along, and Remus who'd been kept away on grounds of an affliction that could have easily been dealt with. Even Severus, who'd been toyed with as a weapon, was used for all manner of dirty work. All these lives had been played with and manipulated by that man. It was frustrating how much blind faith Dmitri had given him; how much they'd all given.

Scowling, with a sudden acidity at the back of his throat, Li peeled off the remains of his clothes and set to work filling the tub. He decided to forgo his righteous anger in favor of washing away the accumulated dirt and grime collected since his capture.

An hour later had him feeling more relaxed and refreshed. Dmitri clambered out of the tub cheerfully, a small whistle on his lips... Only to stare at himself in shock in the mirror. Apparently, his birthday had brought about more changes than just the complete destruction of his faith and beliefs. Wonderful.

Normally unruly hair fell in tamer waves around his head. It was uneven, of course, and badly in need of a trim, but glossier and healthier than ever before. Where his hair used to be a dark brunette, it now shimmered an unnatural hue of jet black; almost blue in its intensity. Dmitri's skin, once tanned golden by the sun, now seemed to hold that tone naturally, softer and free of the blemishes of youth.

He'd already known about his eyes being corrected, but the bright and piercing color startled him, framed, as they were, in thick lashes that were thankfully straight. Reaching up to follow the curves of his face, Li peered at his aristocratic features, nose more defined and aquiline, and lips fuller and richer in hue. He had lost the fat of youth around his cheek, his visage slightly gaunt from his torture, but no less noble. Each new discovery he touched in wonder.

However, more shocking to the adolescent than the morphing of his facial features, was the subtle difference in his form. Pinching the skin of his stomach experimentally, he was pleased to observe the meager muscles he had possessed from his scant Quidditch practices were now much leaner and more toned. They were still very faint and softer than he liked, but he knew with the right training, he could hone them into something deadly.

Due to his treatment at the Dursley's, he'd never been able to gain muscle properly: Malnutrition was never conducive to athletics. The only bulk he'd ever experienced was the bulbous fat of his uncle and cousin. Thus, Dmitri had resigned himself to the fate of never being strong. With this transformation, which to him really was magical, he finally had a chance.  
"Maybe there is some use to this Seraphim business yet," he whispered to himself, continuing to poke and prod at his now sleeker body.

He'd also grown a few inches, noticing then his eye-level in comparison to the ceiling as his gaze unfocused. Li was now a rounded five-feet and nine-inches. Not the tallest figure in the world, but certainly not his previous diminutive height of five and four-inches.

Pleased with these changes, Dmitri reluctantly peeled himself away from his reflection when his stomach let out a noticeable rumble, alerting him to the fact that he hadn't eaten in a long while. Bypassing the towels -for he'd air-dried during his pleasant surprise- he sauntered back into his room in a oddly cocky manner, displaying his new changes like a proud peacock. It wasn't every day Li was buoyed by self-confidence.

By now used to the strange happenings in the fairytale cottage, the youth was not surprised when he found clean clothes waiting for him splayed on the bed; though he did look around suspiciously, suddenly conscious of his nudity. Pulling on the clothes quickly, he stopped for one last once-over in the vanity, once again noticing the misty surface clearing. Peering at it curiously, he ran a hand through the soft locks adorning his head, eyebrows rising as the action uncovered his now slightly pointed ears. "Brilliant," he muttered sarcastically. "What next: Fangs?"

He practically flew from the vanity when the mirror started to laugh. "Only if you were a predator or some sort of demon, m'dear," it wheezed in an oddly whimsical manner. Heart in his throat, Dmitri simply chose to flee the room in a swift lope, having had enough surprises for the morning.

His pace leveled at a long gate when he was yards from another distinctive door down the hall. Said hallway looked quite different in the light of day, but that was to be expected. Li also had to take into consideration the lack of discernible thought he possessed the previous night, much less the energy to memorize the image of such a passage. This and other thoughts drifted through his mind as he wandered in what he surmised was the direction of the kitchen.

"Can't all this wait at least until I get some bloody food in me?" Dmitri grumbled minutes after, somewhat grouchily. He was beginning to become frustrated by the situation. No way had it taken this long to get from the library to his room, even if he was exhausted. This sudden extension coupled with the disembodied voice in his bedroom was jarring the stasis he'd finally established. With a sudden soured countenance, he did not look where he was stomping off to until he walked face first into a dead end. Hadn't there been a staircase leading to the second floor? How could he get lost in a house the size of a large cottage, however enlarged it was for the library?

Blinking in surprise, the half-Seraph realized that nothing around him was recognizable, and that the hallway behind appeared to be miles long behind him. A heavy sense of foreboding filled him as he slowly started to make his way back down the hall. It had only been this one hall, so if one direction led away from the goal, one simply needed to turn around. Dmitri sorely hoped this house was at least mildly practical in its magical applications. Magic messing with the laws of physics always made his brain fuzzy.

Finally traipsing the length of the hall in the time he remembered it taking, Li found himself not past the interesting door he remembered to the open doorway of his bedroom, but to an entirely different hallway he'd never seen. With walls such as these, if they had been anywhere near his room he would have noticed it instantly.

They were covered entirely by vines, with strange and vibrant red-orange flowers blooming intermittently along them. Each bloom emitted a golden light that served as the only luminescence this part of the way. There were no windows shuttered beneath the flourishing vines with their lily-shaped blossoms, nor light fixtures buried beneath the broad foliage.

"Just what is this place?" Dmitri murmured to himself, scowling at the sheer distance ahead of him. It, again, was not as if he could be truly justified in his notably flabbergasted perception, seeing as where he went to school, but still! The sudden reference to his now -former- education and its facilities sobered him. Lines creased his brow as he forced himself to think on other things, more pertinent and present at the moment things. He turned his gaze outward to the most interesting hall in an attempt to do just that.

As he walked, the corridor seemed to fill with sound, eerily reminiscent to the ones he'd heard from behind the door at the Dursley's. For a second, he thought he might have really gone over the deep end. High-pitched laughter and ethereal voices teasingly brushed against his senses and filled him with a deep sense of urgency.

"_Noasmi ol ollog… ol pashs… ol hoath… noasmi ol ollog…" __1_

Gasping, Dmitri clutched at his head as the voice thundered inside it, half translating itself in his mind. He staggered blindly under the perceived attack, mind in such agony he almost thought it was an attack from Voldemort.

Unable to continue walking, the teen awkwardly fell to his knees beside a peculiar ivory door. A large chain dangled on either side of the frame, end jagged as if it had been torn, but Dmitri didn't notice either of them until the door swung open.

Whipping his head up in shock, a distorted yelp escaped him as he came face to blob with an inky shadowy mass. A pungent aroma that stank of evil and ill-will followed behind it, filling Li's lungs with its putrid redolence. He scrambled back, alarmed, and hit the opposing wall, prompting the vines to start writhing angrily. His panic only grew as each spindly tendril curled around him, seizing him, binding him tightly in place. Thorns that were unnoticeable before now cut into the thin material encasing his shoulders and torso.

The half-Seraph struggled futilely, the stench of the strange creature making him feel nauseated as it came towards him. It oozed slowly over his bare feet, caressing his shins in a cold mockery of a lover's embrace. The foulness was making Li's eyes burn in their sockets as all the hairs stood up on his skin.

Shuddering in utter disgust, nightmare after nightmare re-surfaced, some Dmitri definitely knew were not his at all. Bile rose in the back of his throat as lightheadedness overtook him. He saw his mother fall, the scream, an army of monsters, the flash of green, a cold laugh, a pit of darkness, pain, Voldemort on Quirrell's head, a river of blood, Aragog… memory after memory.

Once more, Dmitri's verdant eyes filled solidly in color, dotted with flecks of silver that swirled in his agitation. He glared solidly at the vile thing though his gaze was unfocused. Unperturbed, the horrid mass squelched even further up his body.

/ _Pathetic human… ssssss… asssss if yousss could be the onessss from the prophecy…./_

Dmitri gasped again as his already battered mind was assaulted telepathically. He blinked, trying to abate the battering to his senses. The creature laughed cruelly.

/_ Ohsss, I sssshall have funsss killing yousss… maybe even makesss yousss my petsss… yessss…. Wertlossss likessss thissss plansss… maybe I even ussse your pretty little face… yesss…. /_

The thing stroked Li's face slowly, leaving a sticky trail as it pinned him further in place. Images of the literal removal of his skin were linked to him, making him wretch and gag. The act simply made the smell worse. Thoroughly disturbed, the gangly boy looked up fearfully. The demon, Wertlos, grinned; it was not a pleasant sight. The mouth was pitch-black in color, lined by grotesquely disfigured and rotting teeth. A wave of rancid breath washed over him, making him choke, and his eyes watered as a gnarled hand-like limb burned across his skin.

"Get off of me!" Dmitri cried angrily, heart pounding as he tried to wrench himself free to no avail. The open slices ripped into him by the lily thorns, no thicker than paper cuts, burned from the malodor that was as much an odor as it was a physical quantity. The instinct to flee and being unable to comply was sending Li to the cusp of a panic attack.

Wertlos cackled gleefully. / _No… with yousss, I will… becomessss… a full-fledged sssshadow demonnn… andsss thosssse foolsss will laughsss at me no moresss.../_

The slithering glob was working itself into quite the euphoric cackle at the expense of its victim. Dmitri's demeanor changed suddenly. It became much more anger, than fear. Yes, he was becoming the victim again. Pulled from normalcy into a situation he had no control over. The likelihood of his death was almost certain given the circumstances. He had not the strength to overcome the living vines, nor the viable magical ability to fight this Wertlos unarmed. Mastering the concepts of wandless duels was nowhere near the actual application. Li had neither the time nor the proper circumstances previously to perfecting these most basic life-saving skills. Between the gagging and the vertigo, he still felt like an idiot.

Before Dmitri could attempt some kind of counter-attack, any kind of counter-attack, there was a flash of searing light. It was radiantly beautiful despite its brightness, and it brought forth a much needed burst of fresh air to his abused lungs and throat. He gasped at its sweetness.

From between squinted eyelids, Dmitri saw the distorted silhouette of Severus appear, hair whipping wildly about his head in response to the sudden change in air currents. Briefly, he pondered on the unusual length of the older man's locks, but the thought soon vanished as the demon peeled itself off of him. All that remained of Wertlos on Dmitri was the sludgy discharge from the pores of the violent creature. In the same stretch of a second the demon launched its body at the Potion's Master. Li grimaced, seriously considering hurling whatever was in his stomach at the moment, as he realized tendrils of slime connected him to the abhorrent monstrosity in stringy mucus similar to that of a slug.

The ex-professor simply side-stepped the attack with a practiced ease. With that dodge successful, Severus flourished his hand with the most minimal flick of his wrist.

"_Thosi… Shes!" __2 _he bit out tersely, glare narrowed on Dmitri in disdain and irritation.

Tendrils of fire flew from Snape's outstretched palm and wrapped around Wertlos. The wails the demon emitted were so awful, Dmitri ears began to ache. He was thankful when the flames' heat raised enough to cause the vines still wrapped around him to release him, retreating further up the wall.

Incensed, the demonic fiend then spat out globs of black fire, which Snape deftly blocked with another word and a swipe of his palm. This pattern continued, until finally the retaliation stopped. Using a sharp gesture to levitate the jelly-like creature, Severus smirked.

"Speak now your purpose, demon, or be silenced in contempt."

/ _Neversss… you disssgusssting lower breed… dissssgrace to our kindssss… taintedsss bloodsss… /_

Snape's mouth twisted up into a disgusted sneer. "The only disgrace here is you, Wertlos."

A globe formed around the blob with a barked word from Snape who sneered at the creature.  
"_O, shai porali os vali, jhaeli sor vaer! Balor!_" 3

Wertlos vanished with an enraged scream, and Snape was left standing within a string of runes that Dmitri had never seen the likes of before. They gave him the faintest sense of familiarity, but yet again his attention was pulled away for more pressing matters at hand. For a moment, neither said anything. The silence only broke when the younger one shifted, looking down at his legs and the slim still smeared upon them. Dmitri grimaced.

"Decided to explore the deeper bowels of the house, did we?" Snape remarked blithely, turning glowing red eyes onto him. Li didn't even bother responding to the quip, though he made sure his irritation was clear. Instead, he set about checking over his minor injuries, shuddering every time he encountered a sticky patch on his now ruined and tattered outfit. It was only when he was finished with his inspection that he tilted his head to look up at the other man from his seated position, quirking an eyebrow thoughtfully.

"I had been wondering why you knew so much about everything. It's because you're not human either, are you?" he guessed, sinking more comfortably against the lightly bloodied wall, "You're a half-breed too, but… from the Dark Realm, right?"

The silence that followed his question was decidedly awkward, and Dmitri frowned in confusion. Before he could remark upon it, however, Severus chose to respond. "No, I am not. My father was a half-breed, which makes me a quarter breed, though I was _born_. Apparently, that was not enough to be eligible for Inverness, on the grounds that my inheritance hadn't manifested enough."

The bitterness was evident in his voice, making Dmitri regret asking him the question. "Oh… I didn't realize the quantity of the inheritance mattered for the schooling. Though, I'm curious as to why you emphasized being born?"

"Because, Mr. Li, I am a Vampyre. A 'vampire' that is born," Snape stated, his voice as silky as ever. "Usually, only full-blooded Vampyra can have children who are born, thus creating either more purebloods, or a half-breed, like my father."

Li nodded thoughtfully. "Oh, so vampires are mostly born, then?"

The recently outed quarter-Vampyre shook his head. "No, most of the vampires you hear about in the Wizarding and Muggle world are those that were 'turned' from their original species. Vampyra are born, Vampires are made. This is usually done by half-breeds who aren't fortunate enough to mate with a pureblood, because they don't possess enough strength to mix DNA well enough to form a child. In fact, most half-breeds and all Vampires are sterile."

"So, how were you born then, Sir?" he replied, eyes wide as he realized the implications behind the elder man's words.

"My father was apparently an usually powerful half-breed, and thus appeared to have enough ability to mix with my mother, probably drawing on her magical core as well. I was born nearly equal in strength to a regular half-breed, but without as many abilities passed down from the bloodline. My father wasn't strong enough to pass more than a couple of special talents on to me, which rendered me unable to attend Inverness."

Dmitri frowned as he nodded in understanding, finally finding the ability to stand. His stomach chose that moment to announce, quite loudly, how hungry it still was, and he looked at Snape sheepishly.  
"How about we talk over breakfast?" he intoned lightly, attempting to clean himself up as best he could without a wand. "Because, I assure you I have many questions about this blasted illogical cottage."

The Vampyre smirked, flashing a previously hidden fang, "I'm sure you do," was the infuriating response, followed swiftly by a sharp burst of cleansing magic that cleaned and mended his clothes.  
If he hadn't been so grateful, the Seraph would have uttered quite a few choice words at the condescending attitude. As it was, he merely gestured impatiently at the hallway, stalking after the cloaked male in a decidedly angered manner. A state which quickly intensified, as after a minute or so of walking and a couple of doors later had them striding straight into the kitchen. To think, he had been so close all along!

"Bloody wannabe-farmhouse: Stairs disappearing, hallways moving, fucking bi-polar shanty," he grouched irritably, immediately stalking over the fridge and cupboard for milk and cereal, not really in the mood for cooking. He thumped his rear soundly in one of the elevated seats of the island's bar.

If his companion was amused, of which he had no doubt, then it was hidden well. For that much, at least, Dmitri was thankful. After finally arranging his meal and savoring a few mouthfuls, he returned his attention to Snape. The man leaned ever so slightly against the corner of the island counter. Li wondered at the Severus' ability to make such a movement simultaneously nonchalant and sarcastic.

"Well?" Dmitri questioned after swallowing another spoonful. "What is this place? And which realm is it in?"

Relaxing back against the marble fully now, Severus gestured for Li to get comfortable in his chair; it seemed a long explanation was ahead.  
"To put it simply, this place is safe house. It's currently in my possession and passed down through my father's line. As for which realm it is in, the answer is none.

"In between each realm, there is a non-dimensional space, a pocket so to speak, which people call _Oiad Niiso_. It means 'The Way' in Enochian, the Angelic language of the Seraphim. Originally, these pockets were dominated by the Light Realm, but after a particularly violent dispute between Ariaus and Elbas, some were taken over by the Undaminh."

He paused there to make sure Dmitri was following and received an affirmative nod to continue.

"This cottage is inside one of these pockets. It is a _Nia-Cod Oali_: A safe house. The Seraphim originally used these places during war time to hide those who couldn't fight, or house those who were injured in battle too badly to heal right away. And, because of its unique positioning and illogical existence, unless one is keyed to the property, it is almost impossible to break into. Though, I do get the odd lost fae from time to time." Severus added offhandedly.

"So, this place isn't governed by any of the realms? A completely independent place under the jurisdiction of the families it is owned by?" the half-blood asked as he gazed around in approval. "Bet the Roasted Turkeys wish they had a place like this."

Snape snorted at the aptly bestowed nickname for the Order. "This, and much more. Back onto topic: Why do you think our wounds from outside have not given us any trouble?"

Dmitri had to pause to let the question sink and gasped in surprise; he'd been so overwhelmed the day before, it hadn't occurred to him that he should have been holed up in an intensive ward for all that was done to him. Yet, aside from the expected fatigue and long-term effects from malnutrition and mental overload, he hadn't really felt too bad. "I'm assuming it has something to do with the cottage, or perhaps the dimensional pocket itself."

"Yes," Severus nodded as he observed the cleanliness of his nails. "In here, the same rules don't apply and things like injuries work differently. That is not to say you can't get harmed. Just, injuries you receive here will not be present when you leave, and whatever you had before you came here will not be present whilst you remain. However after you leave…"

"Everything returns to the way it was?"

"Precisely." Their gazes met.

"What about things like knowledge, such as those gained from the effects of potions and such? Or even spell-work and permanent transfigurations, alterations, and physical training?" Dmitri inquired after a bit of contemplation. Snape paused, surprised at the pragmatic question, not expecting the inquisitiveness. Dmitri spotted the expression and glowered, knowing exactly what the other was thinking. "As much as I admit I acted like one, I am not a complete idiot, Severus. One has the tactical advantage when others underestimate you."

The validity of the statement was inarguable, and not a little shocking to be coming from James Potter's son. Little by little, the Vampyre was seeing more of Lily in Dmitri, though he'd never admit it even under pain of death.

"Yes, well, in answer to your questions: Things like knowledge will be retained, but it depends on the potion for the effect to forgo the boundaries. If you took healing potions now, they would not heal the injuries you received outside of the realm, since the injuries technically do not exist here. Potions to enhance the mind and make the body efficient will carry out, however, if made by ingredients bought outside this pocket. The house itself can provide you with any ingredient desired and the effects of which will last inside this space, where it exists. Once outside however, the potion or changes you made will be nullified. Any knowledge gained would still be accessible, since your brain is doing the storing, not the potion.

"As for exercises and stamina building, again, as long as it is your muscles that are building and your body alone that is undertaking training, it should stick. I stress that your body came from outside this realm. Altering your form like replacing your eyes with fake ones, or getting a peg-leg probably won't settle, as that falls under the injury category. Since this place was originally crafted solely for the purpose of being a safe-house, it is rather finicky about the health of its inhabitants. Any major adjustments would need to be made in an actual realm: Which is convenient, since time flows differently here."

"Ah, makes sense," Dmitri admitted, an intent look on his face. Snape studied him silently, unused to seeing the boy so focused. "But what's different about the time flow here?"

"I'm not too sure about the logistics," the Potions Master articulated carefully, as if weighing his words, "but it's supposedly different for each pocket. In this particular _Oiad Nisso_, time works at a ratio of one month here being the equivalent of a day out there. And before you ask, there are twenty-five days till the beginning of the new school year at Inverness. This gives us just about two years - give or takes a few days spent in the real world to get you healed completely and fully disguised- to get you prepared for classes."

Li gaped at the gleefully sadistic look his ex-professor-now-guardian-and-tutor shot him and suppressed a shudder.

"This means, Mr. Li, you will be _devoting_ the equivalent of the next _two years of your life_ to the cause of education under my hands."  
This particular statement was delivered with another fanged smirk as Severus leaned his chin absently on his wrist. The man's eyes were starting to become borderline ruby in his mirth. The combination of smirk, sadism, and lack of characteristic posture set Dmitri's hair on end -and not in the good way.

"I... look forward to it, Sir," he stated as firmly as able. He tried finishing the last of his by now soggy cereal dejectedly. Two _years_of nothing but Snape for company.

Li watched as the aforementioned Vampyre poured himself a glass of something thick and dark that looked suspiciously like blood from the fridge, and was rewarded for his grimace with Severus' satisfied chuckle. The man chose a bar stool for himself and stretched much too casually in it. With as snap of his fingers, a stick of celery appeared in the tall glass. Severus used it to stir; a wicked gleam shining in his eye.

Dmitri's cheek twitched. He was doomed.

Or, at least that's what he thought until the sound of a doorbell rang throughout the cottage, startling them both. Snape scowled and drained his glass hurriedly.  
"Which imbecile has managed to blunder their way here?" he growled irritably, stalking out of the kitchen towards the door. Without thinking, Dmitri set off after him, arriving at the door right as it was opened...

… only to wish he hadn't bothered.

"_Potter_? What in the name of Merlin's tits are _you_ doing here? And what happened to your hair?"

* * *

1 "Come to me… my child… my love… come to me…"

2 "Fire… Burn!"

3"You, who disgrace our race, leave this realm: Vanish!"

**E/N: **

**Superbia:** Free at last, free at last! Thank God almighty, free at last! –flourishes editing hands- I shall slave drive Luxie to get through chapter three. With love, Superbia. –goes to lay down-

**Deca (aka Luxuria): **Haha, it is as Supie says! Finally, after _months_ of pounding this little beauty and more out, chapter two is complete. I know it's been eleven long months since chapter one went up, and for that I am forever apologetic. However, I can assure you, chapter three will _not_ take as long to be uploaded. To my reviewers and the many who put this story on alert, I thank you for your incredible amounts of patience with and my folly with the English language. I hope you will continue to enjoy the story and support me as you have been. Important questions about the story and the like in reviews will be answered at the top of every chapter here on out, so don't be shy to ask. –bows deeply- Again, thank you all, and hope you enjoyed the (ridiculously delayed) chapter. :3 [_10/27/11_]


	3. connaissance

**Disclaimer:**I do not own Harry Potter or any of its contents therein. However, any new characters, realms, and certain ideas belong to me. Any unauthorized use of any of the aforementioned items is subject to copyright laws and appropriate action will be taken forthwith.

**Additional Story Notes: ** *1 - I am well aware Lucius should be in Azkaban after the fiasco at the Ministry, but this story is an AU one, so I have changed that little tidbit to suit my needs: Creative license and all that rot. I for one don't think he would've gone it without a backup plan and as such, that is the way I have written it.  
*2 This story will contain mentions of Pagan holidays and things. I apologize sincerely if you are pagan, but I am putting my own twist on things for the sake of my story. I am not going out of my way to change the actually holidays or rituals, but the way I explain them are what they mean to me for the story. So I have taken some artistic liberties with my descriptions, which will be showing up in the story. So please, no flames about what is correct and what isn't.  
*3 This story IS AU. If you want a play-by-play recount of the entire books JK Rowling wrote, this is not the story for you. c:

**A/N:** Alright, it's been three months, but I have a legitimate excuse this time. The old computer I was working on was… on the cusp of dying… and working with Supie in GoogleDocs was just… madness. But now I have a new laptop, so all is good. Not only that, but for some reason, this chapter was just a bitch to write. But, hopefully you'll enjoy it and all the hard work put into it. Here it is, chapter three~

* * *

Chapter 3: Connaissance

It was a normal English night; the wind was brisk but playful in its billowing merriment. Autumn was beginning to set in and soon young minds would return to the academia, their summer's escape only dwindling in strength now. The manor, in its entire splendor, rested with the moon overhead. All was calm and gentle. Gentle, aside from one manor wing usually reserved for such quiet contemplation in the depths of the night.

The Malfoy heir dreamed fondly of sugar tarts and the latest Dupioni silk dress scarves. His sweet face was buried beneath a burgeoning heap of covers. No luxury or comfort was spared for the doted young master in his personal abode. Outside the room of such quaint imagery, however, were two most unusual midnight wanderers. Their harsh whispers echoed about the hallway, the natural acoustics magnifying the sound by way of the elegant wainscoting and arched ceilings.

"Lucius! Can't this wait until the morning?" a shrill, effeminate voice hissed sharply. Elegantly sculpted brows were raised in, gods forbid, an almost frantic manner. Despite the implications of a midnight rendezvous outside her son's room, Narcissa Malfoy remained in a perfectly erect posture with one delicate hand grasped around her decadent sleeping robes whilst the other clutched the forearm of her husband.

"No, Narcissa, it cannot. This instance is of utmost importance!" Lucius Malfoy glared icily at his female companion, as if willing her to shut up. It, sadly, went unnoticed as she continued to fret.

"Must we bother Draco with this? I refuse to let you drag him into business concerning that madman," Narcissa intoned as menacingly as she could. She stood boldly between him and the doorknob, impeding his forward momentum. Sighing in exasperation, the aristocrat waved the arm she was holding dismissively, dislodging her grip. If he had any less class he would have shooed her.

"Believe me, my dear," he answered. "That is the _last_thing I have the intention of doing. Now move, woman! We're wasting valuable time creeping around like common thieves in my own home."

"Not until you explain to me why we are taking flight from our home at three o'clock in the morning, Lucius Abraxas Malfoy!"

The Malfoy Head scowled at the sound of his full name, completely irritated by this point. Waving his wand arm, Lucius gently shunted his wife out of the way and opened the door to his son's room. Narcissa, indignant at being moved forcibly with magic, glided in behind him glaring daggers at the back of his head.

Fully aware of his wife's ire –and somewhat amused by it – Malfoy towered in a sinister way over his son's bedside. "Draco, get up immediately," he murmured lowly, still trying to keep quiet in case there were listening charms in his home.

There was no reaction from the completely buried lump. All that could be seen was a tuft of silvery blond hair and the head of a stuffed dragon, white in color with blue eyes. Lucius frowned at the sheer amount of overstuffed pillows his son's circular poster-bed possessed, along with the multitude of blankets that adorned it. It was August for Morgana's sake! Raising his hand to shake his son awake, he was not surprised when his wife intervened. Saddling Lucius out of the way, Narcissa leaned forward slightly.

"Draco," she whispered softly, delicately prodding a part of the lump she assumed was the teen's shoulder. "Draco?"

All Narcissa got for her efforts was a slightly disgruntled groan from the human shaped bulge, before it shifted, clearly rolling over. Lucius lifted a perfectly groomed eyebrow, which his wife studiously ignored before trying again.  
"Draco, my darling, you must wake up," she whispered quietly, stroking at the top of his head which had been revealed after his movement. "My dragon, wake up."

Draco whined inside of his cocoon, blearily opening his eyes. "Wha ish it, mummy?" he exhaled, trying and failing to move his head. "Mmm… five more mins… dun wanna get up yet…"  
The two standing could hear him drift back to sleep.

"My little constellation, you can't go back to sleep..." she tried again, lightly patting the comforters. Judging by past experience, it looked as if the woman would carry on in this manner all night. Lucius had other ideas. There simply wasn't the time and he had never been renowned as a patient man. Scowling, at that moment Malfoy decided he could care less about potential listening charms. Once more he guided Narcissa, gently, out of the way.

"Draco Lucius Malfoy, get up at once!" he snapped out in a blunt tone of voice, satisfied as the sleepy boy shot up into a seated position reflexively. A tuft of Draco's silver hair became similar to the plume of a cockatiel in the tossing and turnings of sleep. It would have been endearing under other circumstances, and Lucius had to resist the warm feeling in his chest to maintain composure.

"Father?" the heir gasped, only half-awake; it was an improvement from his previous state though, so Lucius chose not to comment. "What are you doing here?" he rasped taking in his father's traveling cloak, "I thought you were supposed to be gone until—"

"Never mind that, son. You are to get up this instant. Get dressed and pack your things," his father commanded imperiously. "We are leaving within the hour."

Gaping in disbelief, the silver-eyed boy turned confused eyes to his mother who was shooting Lucius disapproving looks. "Mother, what's happening? Where are we going? Can't this wait until morning…? I don't want to get up now. I'm tired!"

The never-drifting look she was giving his father sharpened into an angry glare. "I know, darling. I'm not certain on the details myself, seeing as your tight-lipped father has not seen it fit to explain to me either, but he says it is of the utmost importance that we do as he says. I can only imagine what sort of situation he has managed to land us in now, my sweet tartling."

Draco's bottom lip wobbled in a familiar way, signaling an upcoming tantrum. Lucius braced internally for impact. "But I don't want to leave! Can't you two go wherever it is by yourself? Why do I have to come too?"

And on the boy went for a moment's time, bemoaning the inconvenience on himself and begging to be spared ''til at least morning'. A faint tear was barely kept at bay at the curve of the young man's thick lashes.

This was a normal response. Draco didn't care to do anything in the first hour of his wakening. It was a habit he had picked up from Lucius himself, this inability to force movement within the beginning of the day; it made both of them quite cranky and even ill at times.

Still, this was taking entirely too long. Lucius' eye twitched as he watched Narcissa trying to quell his son's spoilt tantrum, shooting him venomous looks the whole time. He stepped back from the situation then, pausing for a breath to collect himself. Nodding decisively, the Malfoy Lord made to impart with the information he knew would spur them into action.

"Draco, the Dark Lord wants to take you as his wife and consort in order to produce his heir," he stated nonchalantly. Smoothing his robes and pulling a piece of non-existent lint from one fold, Lucius waited for this new information to sink in.

The pause was pregnant.

Through with his dramatics, the eldest Malfoy then looked on in sadistic glee as both the once-tittering prima donnas stared at him in shock. He watched as their faces contorted in a most similar manner of utter horror and disgust. "So perhaps now you'll agree that this is a matter of urgency needing to be dealt with post haste."

He gestured at the room. "Now begin packing."

Lucius' ire grew when neither of them moved, but quickly turned to surprise as Narcissa threw herself in front of Draco.

"I will not let you, Lucius!" she cried, blue eyes wide as she watched her husband. "I have sat back and watched you make many mistakes for that lunatic, but I will not give him my son. You will have to kill me first, and I will take you down with me!" Draco just stayed quiet, frozen in terror, body language the epitome of fright. He stared in shock between his mother and father, once thinking them sane.

The Head Malfoy realized they'd misinterpreted what he meant.

"Oh, calm down, Narcissa," he drawled, rolling his eyes for one undignified moment, unable to help himself even as his foot tapped in impatience. "We're not running _to_ the Dark Lord, we're fleeing _from_him. I told him to come around today, but by that point we'll be gone and the Manor sealed off from him and hidden behind the fidelius charm or some such house elf form thereof. Nobody except those with or escorted by someone with direct Malfoy blood will be able to see or enter the property."

Finally Draco edged quietly off of his bed, shivering violently at the suddenly chilly air. "Where are we going to go, Father? Won't he be able to find us?" The young man seemed suddenly so very child-like, so very waifish in nothing but his pajamas and bare feet. His hair was still mused and his luminous mercury eyes sparkled with unshed tears.

Lucius shook his head, feeling irrepressible warmth spread in his chest at the sight of his sleep rumpled son. Despite the cold façade they put out to the public, the Malfoy's were extremely family orientated. '_Bow to no one_' was the family motto, and loyalty to blood held above all else. So when the Dark Lord had asked for his only child, his sole heir, Lucius knew then he could follow the man no longer.

"We're going to see Severus," he answered, patting the teen on his head and smoothing out the curls of sleep. "Voldemort will not find us there."

As if that answered everything, Draco simply nodded, all at once in a tither. "Oh! But what do I pack? I have so much... I'll definitely need all my shoes..." Once given a clear objective, Draco was actually one for express methodical performance. This was most especially present when it had anything to do with his material possessions, or his godfather Severus Snape. When it was a combination of the two, the young man could soldier on even through the discomfort of just waking.

Narcissa, however, was less simple to placate. In fact, at the Potions Master's name, her look of skepticism grew worse. "Severus? Really, Lucius, you do know that he's firmly in the Dark Lord's pocket?"  
In response, the man shot her an unimpressed glare, "He's also a spy for the Light. Does that not make him also firmly Dumbledore's man? Even if his connections to political icons are put in the forefront, when it comes to us, his friends, and then Draco, his most precious godson, Severus' loyalties need never to be questioned. I know for sure we can trust him, 'Cissa."

Upon hearing her pet-name, his wife seemed to calm. The alarmed aura of the blue-eyed woman dulled to a mild concern, one she wasted no time in voicing.  
"But we haven't even owled a letter out," she cried suddenly, aghast at the very idea. "We cannot possibly impose on such short notice without a single word of warning... and think of—"

It was amusing how years of practice had made him adept at tuning out the pointless troubles women always found themselves concerned with, whilst maintaining the appearance of interest. Lucius was unsure of how many times he had immersed himself in a mental chess match while his wife ranted on about some trivial matter or the other. He was almost sad that this time he had to cut her short. Time was of the essence after all.

"We are not sending out a letter," he cut in, causing a most scandalized expression to cross Narcissa's dainty face; both for his rudeness and his words. "We have neither the time nor the means of which to contact him at his current location."  
In the background, he could still hear his son's frantic worries over which set of robes to bring, before all were shrunken and levitated neatly into beautifully crafted trunk. Something he wished his wife would get to doing.

She sniffed haughtily, as if picking up on his thoughts, and swept by him. "Fine, but this will be your social records marred by this slight, not mine." Behind her, Draco rushed by, clutching onto his dragon and grabbing unto his quidditch paraphernalia.

"Father, can I take my bed?" he asked, voice slightly winded from his flurried actions.

Lucius spared his son an incredulous glance as he peered at the colossal circular monstrosity that was the youngest Malfoy's bed. Was there even a need to ask such an obvious question?  
"Draco, there is no need for you to bring your bed where we are going," the taller male managed to say nicely enough, shaking his head. Before he could say anything else, however, he was shunted none-too-gently out of the way by his wife's petite form.

"Of course you can bring your bed, love," she beamed, shrinking the large piece of furniture with a flick of her wand, along with much of his rooms furnishings. Only giving Lucius the smallest of glares as he stumbled to right himself, she proceeded to store them safely inside the trunk with cushioning charms to keep the furniture from breaking. Deciding not to butt in the obvious conflict between his parents, Draco merely carried on packing, cheerful despite himself that he was taking his bed after all.

"Narcissa..."

There was a definitive warning in the lord's tone as he turned to her, but again she ignored it. Heading to the door, she shot Lucius a frosty look. "Comforts such as one's own bed are not to be overlooked when one is being thrown into an unknown situation. You can at least provide your only son with that much to atone for the mess you've gotten him into." And with that, she left, leaving behind two speechless males. The tallest of which looked to the smaller before shaking his head. "Women."

The rest of the hour was spent in a flurry of packing and warding, as the three Malfoys got closer to fleeing their elaborate home. None were happy, but they also could not deny the necessity of such actions, and as such, all worked meticulously until it was time to depart.

Finished with his instructions for the house elves, Lucius entered the foyer to the sight of a mound of bags and trunks surrounding the two other members of his family. Both were looking at him with worry, nervous because of what they were doing. Smiling slightly to try and placate their anxiety, the Malfoy Lord grasped as many of the trunks as he could whilst touching the portkey, encouraging the others to do the same. Looking around to make sure they were all ready, he sucked in a fortifying breath and straightened his back; he was a Malfoy, and he bowed to no one. Not any longer.

It was with utmost satisfaction that he uttered the portkey's activation password.

"_Roulette_."

**x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x**

"Lucius..." a wide-eyed Narcissa Malfoy began.

"Father..." the youngest Malfoy continued.

"Yes, my brood?" Lucius stated with an exasperated brow as he re-gripped his trademark cane. With a quick levitation spell, the patriarch removed the weighted luggage from his person and family to float beside them. The Malfoys had portkeyed atop a green hill with posies and daffodils singing in the sunshine-scented breeze. Fairies and all manner of butterflies were swaying around them in a gleeful parade.

"Are you..." the two began to answer before turning to each other. They glanced at each other's flabbergasted expressions, and then righted their postures to a more dignified position immediately. It was Draco who continued.  
"Are you sure this is the right place, father? There are musical flowers, and the trees over there appear to be... dancing…" His finger pointed in a confused triumph. Even a child growing up in the magical world would find this place most unusual.

"Yes, my dear, even the mushrooms seem infected by apparent merriment..." Narcissa added, her pointed stare captured by the felicitous fungi in a completely opposite direction than that of her son. Even an adult with experience in that same said magical world would find this place highly unusual; most especially so in tandem with the thought of the surly Potion's Master.

For the moment, Lucius ignored them both; there were things needing to be done and standing there staring would get none of it completed. His feet gracefully stepped over a snoozing tortoise as he marched down the verdant hillside. He was much too used to this place to be caught off guard anymore. Once the other two noticed his departure, they began following immediately in a confused tizzy.

"Lucius! Will you not explain?" Narcissa called, attempting to keep up with her husband's long strides. She happened to be wearing heels; a most inappropriate shoe to don whilst trekking the wilderness. Heels and hills did not make kindly companions.

"Yes! Father, you must tell us where we have landed! Surely we are lost now in this queer place!" Draco gasped out, not believing for a second that his godfather would ever choose to live within a mile of this saccharine anomaly.

Rolling his eyes, Lucius finally became level with a cobbled pathway, his cane clacking over the subtle rainbow hue of the stonework, "No, my ever-observant flock, that is where we will find Severus. Really, how could you ever think a man of such reserve would be prancing about the hills like a heathen?"

The elegant aristocrat indicated with his hand to the end of the woven path their shoes clicked upon to a most peculiar home: a quaint cottage with pastel accented trimmings. Carved designs shifted all over the outer foundations, trailing rose vines trellised up the north and east walls, and there was even a chimney with lavender colored smoke drifting from its mouth.

"Really, Lucius, is this the time to be jesting? Can't your sense of humor wait until our son is safe?"

Narcissa glared at the back of her husband's head. Ah, the glare, the man thought fondly. If only they knew how serious he was in the matter. Then again, if they did think this place could really belong to Severus, he would feel forced to check them into St. Mungo's himself.

"And why, pray tell, my darling," Lucius began in a dulcet voice, "would I jest in such a manner after fleeing our only home?"

His pointed look had her flushing delicately in shame and he felt satisfied that he would no longer be questioned until they were inside. A man could only take so much before he began feeling compelled to hex their mouths shut. The Malfoy flashed a quick, almost invisible smile as he sounded the bell upon reaching the front door's awning. Inwardly he smirked as his son and wife fidgeted with their clothes and hair.

Everything was going as planned... until the door opened.

Before Lucius could open his mouth to question the bizarre sight, Draco beat him to the line with a most undignified squawking.  
"_Potter_? What in the name of Merlin's tits are you doing here?" he rang out shrilly, causing everyone present to wince. "And what's happened to your hair?"

It was quite the scene, Lucius could imagine. A gaggle of Slytherin dark wizards with the most unlikely guest amongst them, all standing agape with a backdrop straight out of a fairytale.  
"Perhaps we could continue this inside? I have some things I must discuss with you, Severus, and clearly you have quite the tale to tell as well..." he stated pointedly eying the two starkly contrasting figures of the residence.

The darker man in question merely slid smoothly to the side, with an ever-characteristic quirk of one brow.

**x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x**

If ever someone were to tell him a year ago, even up until a few days ago - drugged and delusional as he was, that he would be in a fairytale cottage with his most hated professor and the entire congregation of Malfoys, he would have laughed them straight to St. Mungos. Yet, here Dmitri was, making tea with his long-time rival while the adults made small talk in the parlor.

"Fancy seeing you here, Malfoy," he deadpanned, breaking the proverbial ice while putting the kettle on to boil. Dmitri then waltzed around his former schoolmate to grab cream from the fridge. He ignored the look he knew Draco was giving him.

The young Malfoy heir gaped, taken-aback at the sheer nonchalance of the other.  
"Fancy seeing y-... h-how... Who do you think you are?" Draco sputtered, absolutely incensed. "Potter, has everyone gone mad?"

On any other occasion, Dmitri might have returned the sentiments. But after the incidents of the past few nights, the teen could only find amusement in the other boy's exasperated confusion... and sought to expound upon it.  
"It's not Potter anymore, Malfoy, but Li. Dmitri Li," he smirked, leaning against the counter top, crème in hand, with infuriating cockiness. "A pleasure."  
All that met his arrogance was silence. Li took a moment to bask in it, having achieved something he'd been trying to do for years now. His sharpened gaze followed the pale shaky hand as Draco pointed at him with barely disguised horror.  
"Who are you?" The question was barely a whisper, before an audible gasp on sudden insight was heard. "Who are you and what have you done with Severus?" Draco screeched, flailing about, having thought he discovered the real reason behind this madness.

Dmitri glared steadily at Draco. Really, this was becoming quite old. "Inside voices, Malfoy. Seriously, you've been telling me for years you have class, now prove it."

Draco stiffened. Recognizing an obvious Slytherin political play, he righted himself to also lean upon the opposing island counter. "Right then, _Li_, or whatever it is now, what in Circe's name are you doing here?" he spat out in a clipped cadence.  
It was fascinating to Dmitri, watching the shift in attitude of the other. Perhaps if he had been a bit less hot-headed and collected in school, a lot of their fights would've been settled in words and not fists. Seeing Malfoy like this, like the Ice Prince he was rumored to be, was strange and unbalancing, further proving how much his life had changed. He felt the familiar curl of barely muted anger and depression and fought to stay above it. Despite his vow from the night before, the former Boy-Who-Lived had never been known for curbing his emotions, and bad habits died hard.

Turning his attention back to the matter at hand, Dmitri felt himself settle unawares into a distinctly Slytherin mentality, one he'd possessed before attending Hogwarts, and the very same that the Sorting Hat had clearly seen.  
"I think that is a matter you'll soon discover once we bring in the tea. As your father said, there is something of a tale from both parties to be told."

The whistle of the kettle cut through their discussion sharply then. Both boys returned silently to their duties, fixing the tea with an ease that spoke of familiarity with the practice. If the young Malfoy was surprised by how elegantly his rival moved in the kitchen, he never voiced it. And soon, the two returned to the Parlor, hot tea in hand.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"- to think that you would go so far as to kidnap Harry Potter from under Dumbledore's nose," Lucius was muttering as they re-entered the room. He sat upon one of the high-backed chairs opposite that of Snape, relaxed finally now that their fleeing was over. A gleam of wonder twinkled in his eye as he stroked the silver handle of his walking cane, invariably calculating the logistics of such a feat.

Dmitri quirked a brow at Severus, who, in turn, returned the gesture with a frosty look. Draco remained silent as the tea was doled out, and perched himself on a chaise near his mother. Dmitri took a seat, surprisingly, closer to the potions master than anyone else. It put him opposite that of the Malfoys, which he figured was a just move.

"I did _not_kidnap the boy, as you so graciously put, Lucius," Snape bit out, the sibilance of his naturally smooth voice providing a deeper bite to the comment. "I rescued him from the grips of a madman, as was my promise. I've already discussed with you what I know of Albus' lunacy, and naturally, I found Potter in the midst of it."

The blond Patriarch's brows raised in surprise, and he shot a discreet look at Dmitri, who only glared back with barely disguised dislike. The man _had_ tried to kill him and his... 'friends' numerous times over the years, and he was not quite ready to let bygones be bygones yet.  
"Oh?"

At that, Severus sneered and shook his head. "Come now, Lucius. You should know better. I am under no obligations to fill you in until you tell me why you're here. You are either with me, or against me, my friend."

A tense silence filled the air before an acquiescent nod was given. "Forgive me, Severus. It was just such a surprising scenario that I got ahead of myself."  
Lucius' countenance became serious and angered as he began his tale. "He summoned the inner circle last night, along with a few fodder recruits. As usual, he was ranting and raving about Potter whilst Bellatrix cackled uncouthly at his feet..."

**x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

"_My loyal followers," Voldemort began in a raspy whisper, his snake-like face set deep into the shadows of his throne room. "As you know, this year, you all failed the missions that were given to you. Once more, Harry Potter has slipped through death's fingers and escaped my wrath."_

_Lucius looked around as all his fellow Death Eaters shuddered at the words, already knowing what was coming next. He too braced himself, inwardly sighing at how repetitious their meetings had become, and how their original goals had changed from when he'd first stood by his Lord's side._  
_Back then, Voldemort had been charismatic, fighting for the righteous campaign for Pureblood supremacy and free rights for Dark Wizards. But since the Potter boy, things had changed. They'd become mere thugs and degenerates for society, only performing to bring fear, not change. It was appalling how far the once highly-regarded aristocracy of the Wizarding world had fallen._

_"I am displeased."_

_A voice that had once twined seductively in their hearts was now only a husk of what once was, bringing only disgust and fear. The blond man fought to suppress his thoughts behind reinforced Occlumency shields, continually aided by his natural defenses._

_"Step forward Luciussss... Bellatrix... Dolohov..." And so he went, calling all of those from the disastrous night at the ministry. The one they'd barely managed to escape. Some had been captured, of which the Dark Lord noted with even more cold fury as Nagini hissed at his side._

_Biting back a grimace of distaste, Lucius strode forward before falling elegantly to his knees, barely pecking at the hem of the cloak shoved in his face._  
_"_Crucio_."_

_The familiar burn and agony of the curse shot through him as he held back his screams, writhing in place before the monstrosity in front of him. This was not the cause he was fighting for, and yet he could no more leave for the branding upon his skin. When the curse was finally lifted, he rose on shaky legs and bowed, murmuring his thanks for the punishment and apology for his failure as he fell back in rank._

_"I was weakened heavily by my attempts to possessssss the boy," the Dark Lord continued, as if he hadn't just tortured his men extensively. "He seems to have a natural defense to mind control which leaves me most dissatisfied. I had made several plans that necessitated the use of his body."_

_Something about those words sent a chill down Lucius' spine and he straightened inadvertently, instincts screaming at him that somehow he would not like what was coming next._

_"Fortunately, I came upon a discovery that provided a... very ssssuitable replacement for my ruined contrivance."_  
_Surprisingly, the cloaked figure moved from his crude throne, settling in the middle of the room with an ominous laugh. "Step forward, my precious Luciussss."_

_Growing ever weary now, Lucius stepped forward with a move that belied his hesitancy._  
_"Yes, my Lord?"_

_If anything, that seemed to make Voldemort laugh even more as he caressed the curve of Lucius' cheek slowly, almost mimicking affection. "You are so beautiful, Luciussss. A prize amongst men... almost inhumanly so."_  
_And with that, the feeling of dread turned to bile in his throat as he stiffened under the Dark Lord's hand, confirming the snake-like man's suspicions. "How very unusual for a male to carry the gene."_  
_Voldemort acted as if he was musing to himself, as if none of them were there, watching him lay his hand on one of the inner circle. "There was always an alluring peculiarity about the Malfoy line. A peculiarity rare enough, in fact, to pass on in full to your child, who alssso happens to be male. Such has happened before, yes? You are descended from your father, and he from his. The line is long."_

_The hand that had been trailing gently across his skin suddenly gripped tightly about the Malfoy's throat, cutting off his air supply as a moist tongue glided smoothly across the elegant plane of his jaw._  
_"Tell me, my dear Luciussss, why you sought to hide your Veela bloodline from me?" he whispered in the death eater's ear, grip tightening with every word. He seemed to take pleasure in the choked noises coming from the paling man. "Did you fear being scorned by me? Or did you wish to escape returning to my bed? Do I disgust you, Luciussss? Do you deny my caresses sssstill?"_

_The partial-Veela felt a shiver trail from his encircled neck down through the column of his spine. An audible shudder released itself from his lips somehow, and a sudden flicker smoldered in his Lord's eyes. Lucius, enraptured by that cobra's gaze, could neither break it nor respond to it. There was something in that stare that spoke of danger far more deadly than a mere lashing or curse._

_Disgusted with himself, the once proud man broke eye contact, conceding to the silent battle. Mercury orbs closed in a futile attempt to regain himself. He'd thought himself beyond the ridiculous feelings of idolization. Yet still, after all this time, the old ties tortured him so. Pathetic._

_When he was finally released, the Malfoy patriarch looked up into demonic red eyes and felt a profound fear and queer excitement. Despite the madness and disfiguration, the Dark Lord was still as powerful as he was dangerous. Yet now frighteningly so. He struggled to rearrange his violated form into a presentable manner, eyes becoming downcast._

_"I did not mean to hide my lineage, my Lord," Lucius answered, voice humble. "It is considered distasteful in high society to talk about creature inheritance outside of the family, as you know my Lord. So I never sought to bring it up, feeling it unimportant."_  
_Here he swallowed, almost feeling the arousal in the other man, a boon from his Veela blood. "I-It would be an honor... to be bedded by you again, my Lord." Lucius gritted his teeth, wishing he could hurl those words and a few other things over a cliff, but chose to hide any visible distaste instead._

_The high pitched cackle was expected, along with the second _Cruciatus_ he experienced that night._  
_"I thought you might say that," was the cruel response, before the curse was lifted, leaving Malfoy trembling on the floor._

_For a few moments, nothing was said, and Lucius tried frantically to piece together what the Dark Lord could possibly be wanting. His mind was lucid, though if he had been any less of a wizard he would be otherwise. Sex was clearly not the overall goal, but anything more was too terrifying to even ponder upon. Fervently, he prayed that this would be the extent of it. All of the inner circle had been bedded by their Lord at some point or the other, though notably before his resurrection. Since then, only Bella had been summoned._

_"My Lord," he began slowly, carefully choosing his words. "Might I enquire as to what exactly it is you've found from my lineage that will assist you?"_

_An angled ruby gaze met his in silent contemplation. It was like a cat playing with a mouse, and all death eaters present knew it. Lucius, one so steeply entrenched in this campaign-turned-cult, certainly knew it. A bone-chilling smile set into place on the overstretched, animalistic face of their dark Master._

_"Veela males..." the Dark Lord began, pausing for effect, "They are hermaphroditic, are they not? Able to change to the whims of their bed-mates... What a convenient ability for such a small species."_

_Malfoy tensed, attempting to evade. "My Lord, I am not nearly full-blooded, so the inheritance of such an attribute has never surfaced. If it had, and it would of been of service to you..." he trailed off, grasping at his thoughts. "Only the strongest inheritors have such gifts..."_

_"Pity."_

_The snake man smiled, stroking along the smooth scalp of his skull. Every hair stood upon Lucius' flesh, every nerve was electrified. What was he not seeing that Voldemort sought?_

_The shuffling, Lucius now noticed, throughout the congregation of dark wizards was unusually noiseless this night. He looked towards his sister-in-law, then at those of his status. They never met his gaze, looked away suddenly, or stared boldly with their sneers as Bella did. Did they know? What was this hush? The ones that had looked away suddenly... was that pity?_

_"But your son is, is he not?"_

_The blood rushed from Lucius' face, making the already fair man pale as death. Despite his shields, despite his reserve, despite his training, he could not help the horrified look that ripped across his facade. Voldemort could have purred._  
_"I don't know what you mean, my Lord. We know not yet what his inheritance…"_

_Lucius was abruptly cut off by the snake lord. "How fortuitous of your family to be blessed with such a virile heir. He possesses a keen intelligence, a supremely calculating mind, and is developing into a beauty that far surpasses your wife or even yourself, Luciusss. In such a sense, he's perfect."_

_"My Lord, as your follower he will one day become a great fighter in your ranks, as we have discussed before. But any Veela blood he may or may not possess will neither hinder or help such a thing. Even so, we know not yet what his inheritance will bring. It could take years for his skills to mature." Lucius countered sharply, all kow-towing put aside for the moment._

_"Oh Luciussss, how quaint. You're trying so hard. It's been quite some time since I've seen you so desperate. Your acting, how charming it is, even now." Voldemort brushed his fingertips over his own cheekbone, nose, and jawline, mimicking what he'd done to the Malfoy patriarch just moments before, "A celebration is in order, don't you think?"_

_"My Lord, I am confused..." And Lucius was honestly so, at this point._

_"Your wife recently has informed her sister of the good news. Isn't that right, Bella?"_

_All eyes in the crowd turned to the crazed woman. Lucius glared, wide-eyed at his sister-in-law. Bellatrix Lestrange looked keen to burst from glee and a high giggling tore from her lips. _

_"Little Drakey, how proud we are! All grown up and needing a party! A party for a full-blood! How happy our Lord would be," the former Black cackled in a sing-song, her hands clapping out a mocking rhythm. "So proud of Bella he was. Naughty, naughty Lucy. You should know better than to keep secrets~!"_

_Lucius saw red, but could do nothing. He knew if it was anyone else, he would have done the same. Information, even family secrets, did not overcome loyalty to the Dark Lord. Anything in order to earn favor, at least. The patriarch couldn't blame Bella, he could only blame his ignorance._

_Draco's inheritance had come the night of his sixteenth birthday. His precious son had spent over twelve hours writhing in his bed sheets, sweating them through, rending his throat practically useless for the next week. Never had they recorded in the Malfoy History such a violent coming-of-age._

_Lucius had been a proud father then. He'd beamed his happiness in smiles, even as he placed cool cloths on his son's neck, attempting to stop the nausea stripping the boy's stomach. His wife had been in joyful tears just beside him, pulling back the lengthening locks of Draco's silver hair. His son had inherited the full concentration of their bloodline, making Lucius the father of the greatest Malfoy heir that had ever been born._

_The happiness he'd felt then would never be the same after this night, he knew. It would be tainted by the Dark Lord, like all rest of his memories. At this point it was simple denial as to what the Voldemort planned for Draco. The boy would eventually be called to his master's chambers. Voldemort would tarnish the next generation just as he had done Lucius'._

_Plans began forming in Malfoy's head. What he would do to hide his son, spare him, for however long he could. The boy was coming of age quicker than even exceptional wizards and witches. If he could just give time to his son, maybe he would be able to fortify the boy, or even convince the Dark Lord otherwise. _

_"My lord, if this is what you seek, then allow my family a stretch of time to prepare the boy. He hasn't had more than a child's view of the world's darker hungers. He's experienced trifle few, if any. Kisses, hand holding, small innocent favors from young witches... The boy is hardly knowledgeable enough to provide you any pleasure," he stated dismissively, seemingly scoffing at the preposterous idea. Lucius was clenching his fists tightly to prevent himself from maiming Voldemort and signing his family's death warrant._

_Voldemort had a firm grin on his face that only grew more interested when Malfoy seemed to concede. "Your senssse has merit, servant. Knowing your own bed play intimately, Lucius, it would be a shame for one so young to not succeed his father." The Dark Lord mused._

_The Malfoy patriarch could have sung aloud, feeling victory was at hand. No matter what atrocious things the Dark Lord implied or did otherwise to him, if he could spare his son's innocence, it was a victory. The grip he held on his cane, and the clenched fist he'd hidden in his robes relaxed. The ball was in Lucius' court now. He bowed then, submitting to the graciousness of his master._

_Voldemort returned to his rough-hewn throne and motioned for another death eater. A goblet was presented, the liquid it held indistinguishable. He rolled the jewel-encrusted cup with his wrist as his snake eyes scrutinized his inner circle. All that was heard for many minutes was the shuffling of the crowd as they waited for the next command of their lord. The Malfoy dared not to move for fear of changing the outcome of the evening, even by returning to the masses behind him._

_"I will grant you your request Luciusss. I will give you time to teach your son the sensual arts so that he might please me more. I am not a man who knows not patience for a worthy prize. Since Lammas has just recently passed, you have till Samhain to teach your son not only the finer points of copulation, but what will be expected of him as my consort as well. On the night of Samhain our engagement will be announced."_

_The ball was ripped from the Malfoy court. "Y-your lordship, you seek Draco as your consort?"_

_"Yes, consort, Luciusss. Your son is the perfect match to continue my bloodline. I will marry your son the next Beltane, get him with child, and raise my heir. No other has the fortitude, nor the pedigree, to be worthy of such an honor. Draco will become my queen when I rule this world. Does this not gladden you Luciusss?"_

_The acidic smile of a madman no longer seduced the Malfoy patriarch._

**x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x**

"… He wants my son. And I refuse to give that lunatic what he wants anymore," Lucius concluded, pale eyes narrowed in righteous anger at just the memory of the incident.

The room was silent as the occupants took a few moments to process the horror of what they'd just been told. Voldemort... marrying? _Procreating_? And to a male teenager no less? Just the idea sparked nausea of the most profound kind in Dmitri, and he found himself looking at his pallid school rival with new-found pity and understanding. Now they both were being targeted by the mad man. Though, in light of the situation, the half-seraph found he preferred his fate much over the Malfoy heir. At least his fate would lead to his death.

There almost seemed to be a collective shudder in the room before Narcissa stood, blue eyes gleaming in her rage.  
"See what you have brought upon our family, Lucius," she whispered, her voice shaking from the amount of emotion it bore. She seemed to struggle with herself, as if trying to subdue her ire, but it was a futile effort. "He will hunt us! My poor baby... What have you done?"

It was a strange sight to Li, whom had seen the Malfoy family as an ever cold, stand-offish family. To see Lucius betray the leader he'd pledged his life to, and Narcissa to lose her frigid composure in front of others, all for the sake of their son...  
A wry grin spread across his face despite the situation. This was how a family was supposed to be, no matter how dysfunctional the outward appearance seemed. Somehow, they didn't seem like a family of evildoers the Weasley's had made them out to be. It made him wonder, how many other things had he had missed because he'd taken everything told to him at face value?

Naivety was becoming one of the greatest sins in Dmitri's life.

"Enough, Narcissa," Snape cut in, stopping the impeding fight between her and her husband. Poised elegantly upon the chaise, he looked foreboding from the angry magic swirling around him at the situation his godson was in. Truly, things were becoming more complicated. "I believe I have an idea of where to hide Draco."

Lucius frowned at the irate man, skin prickling from the volatile aura, his own magic responding in kind. "What do you propose, Severus? If we sent him anywhere aside from here, the Dark Lord would surely find him."

Dmitri watched as Snape's demeanor shifted only slightly, his cheek coming to rest down upon his open palm, whilst the other hand gestured lightly. "Even if we sent him to Inverness along with Dmitri here?" he said smoothly.

Both Narcissa and Lucius stared at the vampyre in shock, both having heard tales of the school, even without having attended... "But, would he qualify? No Malfoy has ever..."

It was there that Snape intervened. "Which is precisely why he would be safe there. Especially if we changed his name like I did Potter's. With his full Veela inheritance, he should be safe enough to go if we trained them both before sending them away. By right of inheritance, they both are more than qualified."

Not surprisingly, Draco was the first to speak up. "Inverness? Change my- I'm not changing my name! I am a Malfoy!" his voice rang out, shocked that such a thing would even be suggested.

Narcissa intervened before his tantrum could grow. "It is a school for exceptionally gifted students who possess more than one species' characteristics. In your case, darling, you are both a wizard and a full veela."  
His father then took up the mantle, shifting in his chair to fully face his son. "And, as much is it pains me to say, you'd be safer if no one knew you were a Malfoy. I do not know how far Voldemort has sank his poisoned fangs, but I will not risk news of your location leaking back to him. Or do you wish to marry the Dark Lord, Draco?"

And with that, the matter was promptly settled and a discussion to choose Draco's name was sparked. It took a full half an hour of pointless bickering and snark passing before a decision was made.  
"Sylvain Louis de la Fontaine." Draco seemed satisfied as the final announcement was made, as did his parents. Everyone took care to right their somewhat frazzled states before Severus took charge of the company again.

Dmitri couldn't help the incredulous snort that fell from his lips at the completely ridiculous -in his not so humble opinion- name. Really, 'of the Fountain'? What fountain? Dmitri knew that Draco's last name meant 'bad faith' in French, but in reality, didn't it mean 'bad taste'? French ex-patriots the lot of them.

Once more, the strange golden quill appeared, along with a dragon hide book decorated in red runes. Both vanished just as quickly after Severus had written Draco's new name, and Li frowned in confusion.

"Sir... what _is_that book?" he asked after a few breaths had passed, and everyone had lapsed into quiet contemplation. The acerbic man seemed to consider the question for a few moments before nodding to himself.

"It, Mr. Li, is a registry to the Second Realm, and depending on the age of the registrant, it is also a registry to Inverness," he answered shortly, lips turned down dourly. "Though, just because you are a registered applicant to the school, does not necessarily mean you shall make it in, as they have aptitude tests at the beginning of the year."

Both Dmitri and Draco, now Sylvain, nodded their comprehension, and, surprisingly, it was the former Malfoy that asked the next question.  
"What exactly are the qualifications required for the attendance of the school, and of what sort are these tests for aptitude?"

Snape nodded in approval and even Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy seemed interested in the response, despite knowing something of what was being asked.

"To attend Inverness, one must possess at least two predominant traits of two different magical species. Your case, as pointed out by Narcissa, would be wizard and veela. Li's, on the other hand, is wizard and seraphim. However, in the case of humans, the magical traits of the other species must be over fifty percent, or else you won't be deemed powerful enough to enter the school.

"Remember," he continued, fully in lecture-mode, "the academy is an elitist school full of students who need to prove themselves worthy of a place in their respective realms. In many instances, mixed blood children are killed off to prevent over population of beings that don't belong in any one specific realm. Classes there will be ruthless and cut-throat, and you'll want to be at least in the middle of the hierarchy, if not the top. Otherwise you will die."

"Die?" Sylvain squeaked, staring in horror at his godfather. They wanted to send him to a school where he could _die_?

Snape's nod was grave, and the distraught blond teen whipped his head around to peer at his parents. He was alarmed to find that neither of them seemed surprised at this declaration, and realized that they had probably already known. Which meant they had knowingly agreed to send him off to such an uncivilized sounding establishment.

"As for the aptitude tests, I cannot tell you exactly what testing methods they will use, but I can tell you that they will test your physical and mental endurance, your magic levels and control, and your current skill level across multiple fields, up to and including fighting."

Here, Dmitri interrupted, aghast. "Fighting? But I don't know how to fight! Dumbledore and his flaming chickens never thought to teach their precious savior how to do much other than rely on dumb luck."  
His tone was bitter, attracting the attention of the Malfoys, who looked to Severus in confusion.

"I am well aware of that, Mr. Li," he responded in gruff tones, pinching the bridge of his nose tightly. "It will be on the list of things you'll need to learn during the next two years here. And before you ask, Dra-Sylvain, this house is in something of a time slip, and as such, two years here is about a month out there."

Sylvain nodded and sat back, curiosity on that matter laid to rest, even as his father leaned forward impatiently.  
"Well, what of your adventures, Severus?" Lucius leered, gesturing at Dmitri. "How did you wind up with the peon of the Light side in your care?"  
If anything, the question only seemed to make him pinch his nose harder, as if to ward off an incoming headache.

"I will talk to you about it more in-depth later, as I'm sure you can add in fresh thoughts on the matter, but in essence, I saved the brat from becoming a blood sacrifice," he answered with a grimace, proceeding to enlighten the unlikely group with the grim tale.

All through his speech, Dmitri remained silent, still stuck on the first part of his words. A blood sacrifice? What the hell did that mean? Well, he could imagine based on the context, but had Dumbledore really intended to use him in such a manner? He hadn't especially been the scholarly type at school, despite being that way when he was younger, but even he knew that such things were illegal worldwide. It delved close to a forbidden practice of magic: Black Magic.

By the time Snape finished his tale, the brunette had worked his way into a simmering rage, barely managing to contain himself if the way Sylvain kept shooting him questioning looks was anything to go by. Pinching his lips in a thin line, he shot the Potions master a piercing look.  
"You said you saved me from becoming a blood sacrifice, but isn't that Black Magic?" he questioned. "Does that mean Dumbledore is a Dark Wizard?"

He was surprised when, immediately, all four flared their auras, anger palpable in the air.  
"You dare insult us so?" Lucius hissed, gaze narrowed at the affront that had just been made to his practice. Dmitri merely stared back in surprise, brows furrowing in confusion. Again, Severus sighed.

"The boy didn't mean to, Lucius. Calm yourself," he said in a placating manner, quirking his lips wryly. "You will do well to remember what I'm about to tell you, Mr. Li, so you don't accidentally insult the wrong people as you just haphazardly did."

Dmitri swallowed minutely and nodded, wishing once more that his education wasn't so lacking, and cursing himself for getting caught up in the pace of the Boy-Who-Lived. The hero of the Light side wasn't meant to be a nerd, and he had acquiesced to the image they wanted him to portray. He clenched his fist and carefully paid attention to Snape's words.

"Black Magic and Dark Magic are two separate branches, as different as Light Magic is to Dark Magic, even," he stated sharply, glaring as if to emphasize his words. "Light Magic isn't necessarily good magic, it is just more purpose based. You want a feather to float, it floats. You want to throw a boulder at an opponent, it's thrown. It is, in essence, about the will of the caster and the control of the spell. It is a straight forward branch of magic, and stems from the magicks used by those from the Light Realm, Ariadus. Their lifestyles are based much more on using logic for power than anything else.

"Dark Magic, on the other hand, is more intent based. On top of needing purpose, will, and control, it also needs an emotional depth. Take the Cruciatus curse. One needs to have the intent to cause incredible harm in order for the spell to take effect. As a result, this magic tends to be stronger than Light Magic in some ways, but also harder to use. In the end, the Ministry banned most of its practices and labeled it evil because only select wizards had the strength to use it and not fall into its seductive madness."

Here he paused, letting his words soak in before continuing, shifting his body to a more comfortable position to stare steadily at Dmitri. "Dark Wizards are those who use this type of magic, but not all dark magic is evil. In fact, a lot of dark magic spells for healing and shielding would be a lot more effective in places like St. Mungos if the ministry would just lift the ban. But alas, with incompetent fools like Fudge in office, such thinking is mere fancy."

Sighing as he crossed his legs, Snape turned to the Malfoy patriarch and gestured for him to continue, knowing the other could explain the concept clearer than he. Lucius nodded and took up the lecture, hands gesturing elegantly as he spoke.

"Last, and certainly least, is Black Magic. It _is_evil magic, as evil as magic can become, used willingly only by the maddest of men," he murmured silkily. "All aspects of this magic require some sort of sacrifice, either from the caster or something, rather someone, else. It is limited in its variety, but what it does do is usually some of the most powerful magicks to be seen. Black Wizards borrow their power from the forbidden realm, and in turn, their sacrifice is taken by the summoned creature to Lan'yemael. Any persons found practicing the magic or attempting to aid the monsters of the fifth realm are immediately outlawed or executed respectively..."

Sylvain stared at his father. "And Dumbledore, leader of the Light, is using that magic?"

Severus nodded grimly and leaned back in his chair. "I didn't believe it at first. But after I did some shadow snooping, I found enough evidence to convince me. And naturally, in the middle of these plans, was Harry Potter. It seems he was hoping the boy wouldn't inherit the Seraphim gene and remain merely a wizard."

"But why?" Lucius growled, perturbed by this news. "What could he possibly need that he could only use Potter for?"

Here, Severus shuddered, shooting Dmitri an almost pitying look. "It appears the Dark Lord split his soul into multiple pieces, and one such piece is harbored inside Potter's scar. Dumbledore was planning to use the link and have Potter sacrifice himself after destroying all the other pieces, thus leaving the Dark Lord with the barest wisp of a soul. After that, he was planning to use a mixture of Death magic and Black magic, using what was left of the Dark Lord, to create a portal. Though I'm not sure what for... That was as much as I read before I found out he was holding the boy captive in Hogwarts' dungeon."

Dmitri felt sick the more he listened; this went beyond mere betrayal of his trust. Dumbledore was betraying the trust of the entire world. Shaking, he wondered how many of those he believed in knew of what the headmaster was up to.  
"How could he?" he whispered brokenly, not even having the strength to get angry any longer. The news was too shocking, and the wounds too fresh. Any scabs he may have gotten had just been cruelly ripped off, leaving behind oozing sores of sadness and grief. What had he been fighting for? What had he lost so much for? His parents…? Sirius…? Had they known how much Dumbledore had been lying?

There were too many questions… and no one who could answer them.

Again, the hollow feeling settled over him and he slumped in his chair. He barely heard the muttered discussion being held around him, nor did he notice the contemplative gaze of Sylvain. All he could think of was how foolish the Wizarding world was, to put so much trust in one man.

Then again, it wasn't the first time sheep mentality had run rampant through their culture. They all expected him to be their _hero_after all. And the more he learned, the more he realized just how ridiculous the notion was. He was just turned sixteen, with no special training, no purpose, and no guidance. All his encounters with Voldemort had been survived with just dumb luck and minimal skill provided by his instincts. How was he supposed to win a war that had now spanned for over twenty five years, if not longer, if one counted the first recruitment wave?

If even their precious Dumbledore couldn't kill Tom Riddle, how did they expect a young, orphaned teen who only found out about magic at the age of eleven to do so? It was disgusting. And yet they had been shepherded to believe so. In fact, Dmitri was started to see just how far into his life Dumbledore had dipped his fingers into.

He'd been sheltered from his birthright, from knowledge, from politics, from everything he should have been given in preparation for being the hero of the Wizarding world. Instead, he'd been given a butter knife and then tossed into the snake pit.

But where he had been panicking before, now he had decided to embrace his true nature, whatever it might be. He would toss away the useless tool and charm the snakes with his silver tongue; he would learn and submerge himself in the world he had been denied. And when he emerged, he would be naive no longer.

His magic seemed to swirl and hum beneath his skin, as if it agreed.

Though first, he would have to deal with the piece of Voldemort in his head. Another shudder of absolute disgust wracked his frame and fought to keep down his breakfast. His first thoughts had gone to Dumbledore and his betrayal, but now that his mind had finally caught up, he realized he had more pressing matters at hand. Cutting into the mostly silent conversation at last, Dmitri barely acknowledged Narcissa's disapproving glance.

"What do you mean by... a piece of Voldemort's soul in my scar?" he breathed out, eyes wide at the very horrifying thought that a piece of that madman resided within him.

Lucius grimaced. "It means the Dark Lord used borderline black magic to create horcruxes, which is an object or thing that can host pieces of his soul. Basically, that night the killing curse rebounded… Rather than killing you, a piece of his soul detached and lodged itself in your curse scar. The reason why he has never died and keeps coming back is because he cannot truly die until all of his soul leaves this plane."

Narcissa shivered and pulled her cloak closer to her slender frame, face drawn and pale. "That's what that diary was, wasn't it, Lucius?"

Dmitri sucked in a breath at that, nodding his head in comprehension. "That diary you slipped Ginny Weasley second year. It contained a piece of his soul."

The Malfoy head had the decency to look contrite at his actions. "Yes. Though at the time, I did not know it. In fact, it is only now the pieces are falling together for me. But, if this is so, then this is already three we have accounted for. How many has he made?"

There was a heavy silence as they all contemplated the idea of hundreds of pieces of Voldemort scattered across Great Britain.  
"We can cross that hurdle when we come to it," Snape finally said decisively. "There is only so much speculating we can do, and I feel like we have all had a bit of information overload tonight. During our time here, Dmitri, I will research ways to extract the horcrux from you without killing you, while you devote yourself to your studies."

Feeling it moot point to argue, and feeling inexplicably tired after the eventful day he'd had, the emerald-eyed teen nodded his acquiescence with a frown on his face. After all, there was nothing else to be done, and the plan was as good as any he could come up with.

"Good. Then I will conclude this discussion by explaining how the house works so one might not get lost," Severus continued, shooting a pointed look at Dmitri who merely glowered back. "The house is fairly simple, and works based on purpose. If you want to go to the kitchen, the house will form the shortest path, so long as your will is firm in its desire. Tarry about with wish-washy feelings and you might as well be lost. If you wish to visit the library before venturing to the kitchen, the house will guide you to each place respectively, and so on and so forth."

Blinking, Dmitri nodded dumbfounded. "So it's quite like the Room of Requirements, in this regard? Concentrate on what you want or need, and the house will conform to provide it. But what the house makes doesn't necessarily exist beyond the borders of the house, up to and including the passage of time flow here."

It was Snape's turn to blink, stupefied, and he too nodded silently, once more examining the boy before him who increasingly reminded him more of Lily than of James.

"Well, since we're adjourning for the day, guide us to our rooms Severus and we can continue our discussions at a later time. We have much to do, but for now, I think sleep will be the best remedy for the day's stress," Narcissa spoke up, slowly rising to her feet and helping Sylvain to stand. No doubt the Malfoy's would be having a private discussion soon, but Dmitri didn't mind. He had much thinking to do himself.

So much so, that he didn't even notice the fact that Sylvain's room was right across from his. In fact, he barely noticed his own mumbled valedictions as he finally closed the door to his room.

The next few hours was spent with him lost in thought, in turns raging and grieving, until finally he fell into an exhausted sleep, filled with psychotic laughter and faceless men eating him alive.

**x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x**

The morning after that excitable night before had Dmitri up earlier than the norm, once more repeating the same routine. Only this time, he had more knowledge of how the house worked and was safe in the belief that he would not get lost.

His good, be it groggy, mood was dashed instantly, however, as within moments of opening his bedroom door as he was confronted with the slightly rumpled form of his former school mate, Draco –or rather, Sylvain. Too tired for an argument, Dmitri merely nodded his head, shifting his body to move past his grumpy neighbor, but was blocked by an arm that shot in his path.

"Too high-and-mighty to even deign to greet me properly, _Li_?" the blond hissed, pale brows furrowed in agitation. Dmitri scowled in response.

"Why would I go out of my way to greet you, _de la Fontaine_?" he bit out in response, feeling suddenly awake enough to bicker. He non-too-gently pushed Sylvain's forearm out of his way. "God, even your new name is pompous."

He would be lying if he said the gasp of indignation the former Malfoy let out didn't amuse him to the point of snorting. Which he did, audibly, incensing Sylvain even more.  
"_Excuse_me?"

The darker teen shrugged a shoulder lazily. "You heard me. Why do you always have to be so obnoxious?" Green eyes glared mercilessly into silver ones; there was something about the early hours of the day which caused social courtesy to be crushed ruthlessly under cantankerous spite.

"You... you... _YOU_!" Sylvain could barely speak through his anger, face reddened with rage. "How dare you!" The former-Slytherin's voice rang out clearly, building a brimming migraine in Dmitri's head as he glared up at him. Slyvain's height, even after their mutual inheritances, still gave him an advantage. The young man looked as though he was ready punch Dmitri in the face.

Dmitri's brow ticked in irritation, daring him to try. "You put your hand in front of me to stop me, so deal with the consequences."

"You incorrigible cur!"

It was then his turn to become offended, smacking his hand against the wall. "I'll have you know, Malf- Fontaine, that _I..._ am a _virgin_. So you can stop with your tasteless accusations!"

There was a minute pause in which Sylvain could only stare at Dmitri, wide-eyed and disbelieving, anger totally diffused. And Li, in return, flushed bright red at the boldness behind his rather embarrassing declaration. It was understandable when the other started to laugh, however the tone did not match the circumstances...nor did the insult.

"Hahaha... You... You really are a plebian, Li," Sylvain managed to say between bursts of merriment, holding his ribs. _Finally_, he turned and righted himself, unable to resist a parting shot. "And, as if you really needed to tell me_ that,_ Scarhead."

Sylvain sauntered the rest of the way down the hall, probably to the kitchens for breakfast.

Confused, Dmitri stepped to follow and almost tripped when he saw Snape standing near an alcove which hadn't been there the day before, an almost disgustedly amused expression on his face.

"Incorrigible, adjective: the inability to be corrected upon or improved. In other words, unruly and unredeemable. Not, Mr. Li, incapable of being sexually satisfied."

With that said, the Vampyre sneered and stalked away, also towards the kitchens, his cloak billowing behind him as Dmitri stood there, flushed in embarrassment as the implications of his idiocy finally sunk in.  
"Fuck."

* * *

**Superbia: ***crawls from the abyss* OH MY GOD. NEVA! NEVA! AGAIN! Why, oh why you damnable chapter must ye be so fecking long? Write your own self next time! EDIT YOURSELF TOO!

**Luxuria:** Ohgod… I never want to look at this chapter again. –Cries.- This took so long. So, so long. I don't know why this chapter was so hard to write. 11,000+ words of... _this_. I hope you all enjoy it, I really do. That scene with Voldemort was particularly hard to write, and I hope all of you were suitably disgusted by it. I know there's a lot of information in this chapter (in fact, there was going to be more! -l'gasp-), but it is all necessary for the sake of this story. These first chapters are the set up for a long, four book series, so that's why they are not already at the school and getting badass. Don't worry, they'll be at the school in two or so chapters. :3 I just don't like rushing these things. Thanks for taking the time out to read this story, and if you don't mind, tell me what you thought in a review. That's all for now. 3 [_01/30/12_]


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